


A Trail of Stones

by MissDoodle



Category: Digimon Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, More tags to come as the story progresses, friendship to romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDoodle/pseuds/MissDoodle
Summary: A chance encounter puts one lonely vagabond at the center of a conflict poised to rock the Digital World and beyond...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While it follows Canon for the most part, there will be AU elements to this story. Namely it would fall under a Canon Divergence AU. 
> 
> Also, I'm in need of a Beta Reader if anyone is interested :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Enjoy <3

 

  
It was the heat that finally did him in. Fatigue he could handle, hunger and thirst he could ignore. But this damned heat was more than he could bear.

 

And then there was the sun.

 

A Digimon of his nature loathed the sun on his best day. Today was far from his best day, in fact it might just be his worst. He was starving, he ached to the very core of his being, and worse than anything else he was lost. For miles he carried on by willpower alone, but inevitably this failed him. He collapsed, sucking in ragged breathes only to choke on the dust and debris that swarmed so thickly in the air. His throat burned, parched lips cracked and bloody. He gave one last feeble effort to stand, scrawny arms and legs straining  before giving out.  With a soft thud he collapsed again, face down in the sands.

 

Hours passed--or maybe days, he couldn’t tell--as Wizardmon slid in and out of his bleary half consciousness. He heard a voice, but could not make out the words, nor was he entirely certain if it were real or the concoction of his fevered mind. The voice drew closer. Something…. _someone_ lifted his face from the sand and for an instant he saw a flash of pure white. Then nothing.

 

He was surely dead.

 

Wizardmon did not know what to expect when he opened his eyes again, or if he ever would. Yet there it was, clear as water, the night sky stretched high above him. He looked up at the stars and wrestled with the possibility that he may in fact be alive. _Impossible_. His fingers twitched and he became aware them, then of his hands, arms, legs, and so on. Everything ached.

 

He brought his hands into view--gloved hands. So he was still alive. Still Wizardmon.

‘’You’re awake.’’

 

Wizardmon propped himself up on his elbows and saw that he was not alone. Only a few feet away was a small Digimon seated beside a crackling fire. The creature was unmistakably of a feline breed; tall tufted ears, a stripped tale, and stark white fur.

 

_White fur…_

 

‘’You saved me?’’

 

The feline looked at him with a dour expression.

 

‘’It wasn't all that noble.’’ It drawled, looking back to the fire, ‘’I just couldn't leave you lying there.’’

 

‘’Well...thank you.‘’ Leaning on his staff, Wizardmon struggled to his feet. ‘’I’ll be on my way now.’’

 

‘’You aren't strong enough yet.’’

 

She wasn’t wrong. Every fiber of his body quaked in protest as he willed himself not to collapse again. If not for his staff, he’d not have made it off the ground.

 

‘’I am grateful for your help...but I have nothing to give you in return.’’

 

The cat’s eyes were fixed on him now. He stared back. It was scarce he made eye contact with anyone, even briefly, but he would allow it here. This creature had saved his life, and he had neither money nor provisions to offer in return. He could at least have the decency to make eye contact.

 

A heavy silence lingered between them, unsettled only by the crackle and murmur of the fire. Wizardmon found himself growing anxious; he felt he ought to have broken contact by now, but something compelled him otherwise. Those blue eyes were searching him, but for what he did not know.

 

At last, the feline spoke.

 

‘’I see…You must be very lonely.’’

 

‘’What?’’

 

There was something almost like a sigh from the feline, then it’s eyes turned to the fire again.

 

‘’When you’ve been alone for too long, your heart becomes hard. Your eyes grow cold. Your eyes are like mine.’’

 

_Lonely?_

Well wasn’t it so? Wizardmon had made no time for companions. It had seemed out of the question to waste time making friends with his quest incomplete. He’d never spent more than a day in any given place, so why bother? He would only be gone when the morning came. It was rare that he so much as said a word to anyone else, let alone shared a conversation with them. Time was of the essence, thus friendship was a luxury he could ill afford. He had long since come to terms with this.

 

So why did it pain him all of a sudden?

 

He couldn’t dwell on it long, as the conversation was suddenly shifted elsewhere.

 

‘’You need food.’’ Said the feline, standing to approach him.

 

Wizardmon withdrew slightly as it came near, but did not protest when the feline took his arm and led him closer to the fire. He was told to sit and wait, and thought it wise to obey. Though she--by now he had assumed the being was female--was a rather petite digimon, there was an air of authority about her. He did not doubt that her size belied a fearsome inner strength.

 

Saying little else, the cat left him in search of food. Once she was out of sight, Wizardmon considered that he could try to sneak away, but thought better of it. He was starving, and would only make it so far on his own before collapsing again. He couldn’t count on another benevolent soul to save him next time.

 

As he waited, Wizardmon’s thoughts dwelled on what the cat had said to him. _Eyes like mine_ she’d said. Then she must be lonely, too. He wondered why someone with a heart as hard as she claimed hers to be would bother with him. Why help a total stranger and ask for nothing in return?

The feline returned with a small arm full of desert flora: weeds, root, cactus fruits. They were all of them tasteless but it was food, and Wizardmon ate nonetheless. The cat watched him fixedly, occasionally nibbling on a morsel herself, but said nothing. It was some time before she  broke the silence and introduced herself as Gatomon.

 

‘’I’m Wizardmon.’’  He replied.

 

‘’I've never seen your kind before, you must have travelled a long way to come here.’’

 

‘’I have.’’

 

He’d travelled for years, though by now he’d forgotten exactly how many they numbered.

 

‘’What brings you here?’’

 

‘’Just passing through. You could say I'm a wanderer, I suppose.’'

  


‘’So you just _wandered_  into the desert with no food or water?'' Said Gatomon, openly derisive.  

 

Wizardmon cringed and let out a nervous half chuckle. ‘’Not the wisest thing to do, I know. What about you?’’ Wizardmon asked, ‘’I’ve never seen another like you.’’

 

There was a pause as Gatomon seemed to consider whether his question was worth answering.

 

‘’I’m just following orders.’’

 

This piqued his interest. 

 

‘’Following orders?’’

 

The cat narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at this, and Wizardmon worried that he might have overstepped his bounds.

 

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He offered hastily, ‘’It’s none of my business.’’

 

‘’You don’t have to apologize.’’ Said Gatomon, her tone neither venomous nor kind. ‘’Curiosity never killed the wizard.’’

 

He smiled at that, even chuckled. It seemed Gatomon had a sense of humor, albeit a very dry one.

  
  


When morning came, Wizardmon awoke to find Gatomon had already risen. She sat by the cinders of the previous night’s fire, skinning a small rodent for their first meal of the day. There was a moist ripping sound as she jerked her arm violently to tear skin and meat from one another. Wizardmon averted his eyes. While he appreciated the effort she’d gone through to hunt down a good meal for him, this was a sight he found difficult to stomach.

‘’And how are you this morning?’’ Gatomon peered over her shoulder at him.

 

Again, Wizardmon stood with the help of his staff. He was still somewhat weak, and his body ached, but it was a dull pain now. His muscles no longer screamed when made to exert themselves.  

 

‘’Much better.’’ He said, carefully shifting his weight from the staff to see whether he might be able to stand without it. Though he was able, he decided it better not to strain himself. He hadn’t yet healed properly, disrupting the recovery would only cause him more trouble later on.

 

‘’Glad to hear it. You were so still I thought you might have died in your sleep.’’

 

Despite the even tone, Wizardmon recognized that dry wit of hers surfacing once more, and for a second time he smiled at her.

 

Gatomon patted the ground beside her, inviting him to sit. He obliged. Then she tore a leg from the hunk of meat and bone that was once an animal and offered it to him, still raw.

 

‘’Eat this.’’ She said, ‘’Plant life is all well and good but you need meat to get your strength back.’’

 

Wizardmon stared for a moment, trying not to let his distaste show through. He hadn’t eaten raw meat before; as he understood it, raw meat could make you sick. But Gatomon was watching him and he could not turn down her generosity---however bizarre.

 

The meat was somewhat tasteless, but easy enough to swallow. Gatomon took a leg for herself, then offered a flank to her companion. Again, Wizardmon could not bring himself to deny her. She was doing this to help him.

 

When the bones were licked clean, Gatomon stood and began to walk.

 

‘’Come with me.’’

 

Wizardmon hurried to catch up. She was small, Gatomon, but kept a brisk pace.

 

‘’Where are we going?’’

 

‘’Back to the village.’’ Gatomon answered, ‘’There’s something I need to find there. And besides, you need water.’’

 

When they reached the village, Gatomon led them to a run down saloon. Within was a dusty, dimly lit space cluttered with old, termite-bitten tables. The floorboards creaked dismally underfoot, and the combined stench of musk and tobacco hung thick in the murky air. Scattered about the place where its patrons, many of them in varying stages of intoxication despite the early hour. A few of them looked up from their drinks and regarded the two interlopers with malignant stares.

 

Wizardmon instinctively moved closer to Gatomon, who remained unfazed by their distasteful surroundings. She made a direct path to the bar and gestured for Wizardmon to be seated. He hesitated, but inevitably obeyed. Otherwise occupied with his back turned to them was the bartender, a mange ridden Gazimon with torn ears. He busied himself with something behind the counter until Gatomon cleared her throat to catch his attention.

 

The Gazimon looked over his shoulder with a snarl.

 

‘’Yeah, what--’’

 

His manner changed the instant he laid eyes on Gatomon. His ears flattened; all sourness gave way to dread.

 

‘’G-Gatomon!’’ He stuttered, ‘’What are you--I mean how lovely to see you!’’

 

‘’Water for this one.’’ Said Gatomon, nodding to her companion.

 

‘’Yes, of course! Whatever you want, Ma’am!’’

 

The Gazimon made haste, hands trembling as he fetched the largest glass he could find and filled it to the brim. He hefted it onto the counted and pushed it toward Wizardmon.

‘’There you are, Sir! Enjoy!’’ He visibly strained to keep the smile on his face.

 

Wizardmon sat bewildered, not entirely certain what had transpired.

 

Gatomon spoke up again.

 

‘’Now if you don't mind, I’ll be needing to speak to _him_.’’

 

Again the bartender was painfully eager to oblige. He led her behind the counter to a door, and before he could make heads or tails of the situation, Wizardmon was alone again.

 

He sat in anxious silence, looking over his shoulder now and then whenever he felt an unkind gaze fall upon him. The same eyes that had followed him upon entering still watched him now, their intentions unknown.

 

Despite his own mistrust, and the palpable tension in the air, Wizardmon could only put off his thirst for so long. Very carefully, he tilted the large glass so that its brim touched his lips and tasted it’s contents. Only when he was sure that it was safe did he allow himself to drink. It was little sips at first, but before long he’d taken to gulping down as much of it as he could. Water had been scarce to him for so long.

 

The glass was more than half empty before Wizardmon set it down. He took only a short respite before going back for a second draught, but before he was able, a large hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and jerked him backward. Wizardmon hit the floorboards with a yelp. Looking up, he saw the hideous bulk of a Vilemon looming over him.

 

‘’Ya’ got some _nerve_ comin here!’’ It slurred, the stench of alcohol unmistakable on it’s pungent breath. ‘’I thought we’d made it awful clear we didn’t want yer kind skulkin around on our turf!’’

 

‘’I...Excuse me?’’ Wizardmon had to fight the urge not to wretch. ‘’I think there’s been some mistake--’’

 

‘’Don’t play stupid with me, runt!’’ The brute snatched him by the collar and hoisted him  into the air with terrifying ease. ‘’I saw ye with that little stooge a’ his!’’

 

He could only assume the thing was referring to Gatomon.

 

‘’Please,’’ Wizardmon tried fruitlessly to wrest himself from the monster’s grip, ‘’If you’ll just put me down I think we can settle this like civilized Digimon.’’

 

‘’SETTLE THIS!!!’’

 

With little other warning, the Vilemon hurled him backward. His landing came with an upturned table, several spilled drinks, and a ruined game of cards. The three Digimon who’d been occupying the table surged to their feet with shouts and snarls. Two of them lunged at Vilemon and from there it became an all out brawl. Plates were smashed, fists were thrown, and even a chair was hurled as more and more patrons were drawn into the chaos.

 

Wizardmon scrambled for the door. He’d nearly made it when something struck him hard between the shoulderblades, throwing him off balance. A moment later he was being dragged across the floorboards.

 

‘’Yer not going anywhere, runt!’’ Came the familiar growl of Vilemon.

 

The brute flung Wizardmon back into the fray like a ragdoll. This time when he landed his skull cracked against the floor so hard he saw a flash of stars explode across his vision. An instant later Vilemon’s foot came crashing down on his chest, squashing the air from his lungs and pinning him to the floor.

 

‘’Now listen here, runt.’’ Vilemon growled, pressing his face in so close Wizardmon could make out the cracks in it’s yellowed teeth. ‘’This territory belongs to Lord Devimon! I’ll make sure you leave this place in tiny little pieces!’’

 

Vilemon raised one of its massive fists into the air to make good on his threat. Too weak for magic, Wizardmon strained an arm toward his staff but it lay too far out of reach. He was done for. Yet as Vilemon roared its ear-splitting battle cry, something struck it between the eyes. Vilemon stumbled back with a yowl, hands clapped over the offended area.

 

Wizardmon felt himself hauled onto his feet by someone behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Gatomon.

 

‘’WHAT IN TARNATION IS THIS!’’

 

A voice boomed over the ruckus. All at once the rowdy patrons froze, their eyes turned to the back of the saloon where a tall and garishly orange digimon fumed with his hands at his hips. Wizardmon heard terrified murmurs of _‘’Etemon’’_ from among the startled patrons.

 

‘’They started it!’’ Cried a Goblimon from across the room, jabbing his finger toward the offending duo.

 

The one called Etemon sneered in Wizardmon’s direction.

 

‘’That true, little man?’’

 

Before the wizard could speak up to defend himself, Vilemon snarled in outrage.

 

‘’These runts have no right to be here!’’ The brute gestured crudely to Wizardmon and Gatomon. ‘’This desert belongs to Lord Devimon! They’ve come to steal it!’’

 

Wizardmon was at a total loss for words. Evidently he’d stumbled into the middle of a turf war without realizing it.

 

‘’What was that!’’ Etemon hollered and leapt toward Vilemon. He grabbed one of the fiend's winged ears and roughly twisted it. ‘’This is _my_ desert, understand! If anybody has no right to be here it’s _my_ say so!’’

 

To drive the point home, Etemon rammed his foot into the monster’s chest and knocked him backward.

 

‘’Now listen all of you!’’ Etemon addressed the whole saloon now. ‘’Everyone and everything in this desert belongs to me! You wreck this place, you wreck my property, and that does not make for a happy Etemon! No sir!’ Now clean this place up before I really lose my temper!’’

 

As the saloon goers scrambled to obey, Etemon shifted his attention to Gatomon and made a sudden heel turn from furious to genteel.

 

‘’Sorry ‘bout that little lady.’’ He crooned, crouching to be at eye level with her. ‘’Some people got no class, I tell ya. Now here,’’ Etemon slipped a sealed envelope to the feline, ‘’This is for that boss a’yers.’’

 

Gatomon tucked the envelope into her glove and regarded Etemon with a curt bow.

 

‘’Much appreciated.’’ She purred, ‘’I shall give Lord Myotismon your regards.’’

 

‘’Attagirl!’’ Etemon canted his head as though in a wink, but with his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses the gesture went unseen. Then with a great flourish he spun around, swiped a drink from the nearest table, and disappeared through the door from whence he’d emerged.

 

Wordlessly, Gatomon strode for the door, trailed after by a dazed looking wizard. As the saloon door swung closed behind them, Wizardmon expected to hear Gatomon launch into an explanation of what had occurred, but this was not the case. She simply pressed on in silence. Inevitably, he broached the subject himself.

 

‘’What exactly happened in there?’’

 

‘’It’s none of your concern.’’ Said Gatomon.

 

‘’Considering I was attacked for being seen with you, I think it’s very much my concern.’’

 

Gatomon stopped and looked back at him. She had that same narrow-eyed look of calculation as the night before.

 

‘’If you’re worried for your safety, then maybe it’s best we part ways.’’ She offered coldly.

 

As she turned her back to him, Wizardmon felt something twist violently at the pit of his stomach. For the first time since he could remember, he’d spent more than a few wasted moments in the company of another. She’d fed him, made him laugh,even saved his life---and now this? Move on and forget?

 

“Wait!” He hadn't meant to sound so desperate. Wizardmon took a moment to regroup, then began again. “I'm truly sorry if I offended you. I wasn't trying to imply that what happened back there was your fault.”

 

“Oh, but it was.” Gatomon purred, almost proudly. “I have quite a few enemies you see, and powerful ones, too. If you value your life, you’d be a fool not to run.”

 

“Then...I suppose a fool is what I am!” Declared Wizardmon. “I owe you a debt, Gatomon, and danger or no danger I intend to repay it. This is a matter of honor.”

 

“Honor?” The feline made a sound halfway between a scoff and a chortle. “I didn't know such a thing existed in the Digital World. If this is about paying debts then you can put your mind at ease, you don't owe me anything.”

 

“That's not true.” Emboldened by a sudden sense of conviction, Wizardmon dared a step forward. “I’d be dead now if you hadn’t shown up. That's no small favor, Gatomon, you saved my life.”

 

The cat sighed, shoulders slumping in what anyone else by might take for defeat. Wizardmon knew better. Gatomon had simply decided it was not worth the time or effort to argue any further. Her opponent was too damn stubborn.

 

“Do whatever you want, I won't stop you. But you’ve been warned, so don't complain when things get nasty. And they will. That's a certainty.”

 

Wizardmon placed a hand over his heart.

 

“You have my word.”

  
The reply was a hum and cynical quirk of the lips. Gatomon faced away from him once more and started out towards the horizon. With little pause, the wizard followed.


	2. Chapter 2

As Gatomon led them northward the landscape began to change. The withered greens scattered loosely across the horizon thickened. Among the shrubs and succulents appeared gnarled trees, their branches naked against the midday sky. Every so often the pair stopped to rest and replenish themselves on whatever provisions they could scavenge. Gatomon had taken a modest supply of water for their travels. They drank only a small mouthful with each rest; the supply would have to last them at least another day. 

 

It was well past nightfall when they finally settled. This time, it was Wizardmon who lit the campfire. Though he’d not recovered fully, he had enough magic to set spark to the kindling. The parched desert grass lit easily, and before long they had a robust fire burning. Again, Wizardmon was left to his own devices when Gatomon went to hunt for their next meal. With little else to occupy the time, he stared into the fire and reflected. 

 

They had spent most of the day’s journey in silence. There was scattered conversation here and there, but the feline offered little of substance. Wizardmon had asked about her Myotismon, but received no answer.  Then he’d  asked about Gatomon herself, and was given only vague snippets of information. She was from the north, and much like himself, wasn’t fond of the desert climate, or daylight in general. Though, unlike him, she hadn’t wandered aimlessly onto the dunes. Gatomon had a mission to complete, which of course reused to discuss in any detail. As suddenly as she’d come to him, Gatomon had closed herself off again. Wizardmon struggled not to be frustrated with her. Afterall, they were little more than strangers. He might have bared his soul, but Gatomon was by no means obligated to reciprocate.

 

The cat returned with a small bounty. A dozen furry little carcasses hung limp in her arms. It was more food than Wizardmon had seen in ages. This time Gatomon was patient enough to let him cook the meat first. He was sincerely grateful for this. 

  
  


‘’It’s not much farther from here.’’ Said Gatomon between mouthfuls. ‘’I think we can expect to be there by tomorrow afternoon at the latest, that is if nothing slows us down.’’

 

Wizardmon couldn’t help wondering if that last bit was somehow a jab at him. Normally he could keep a steady pace for miles on end, but weak as he was he found it difficult to keep up with Gatomon. Despite his longer legs, he would inevitably fall behind, and it was typically for his benefit that they stopped to rest. 

 

Wizardmon looked at his companion apologetically, ‘’I’ll do my best.’’

 

‘’Just don’t over do it.’’ Said Gatomon, ‘’I have a schedule to maintain and if you collapse again I might to leave you next time.’’

 

It was hardly comforting, though Wizardmon decided to interpret this as some more of her dark humor. She wouldn’t really leave him to die. Right?

  
  


  
  


Gatomon woke him early the next morning. After a rough nudge Wizardmon cracked an eyelid and saw enormous blue eyes staring down at him. He was startled at first, flinching away from from her. 

 

The cat chortled. 

 

‘’Disturbed you did I?’’

 

Gatomon offered a paw and helped him to his feet. She appeared to be in a more amicable mood today. 

 

They were on the move almost immediately. According to Gatomon, there was a village with a train station some distance north of them. If they arrived before the day was out, there was a chance they might still catch the final train.

 

Again, they traveled in silence. Wizardmon did not bother to ask questions this time. By now he’d learned it was best to let her make the first move. Any attempt to spark conversation where Gatomon did not invite it was little better than speaking to a wall. Still, he was happy to be in her company. Though capricious, Gatomon was a fine companion. However frigidly she might present herself, Wizardmon had seen enough of her warmer side to know it was there. He only had to wait for it to surfaced again.

 

It was late afternoon when they reached the town. Sunset could not have been more than an hour away. At the train station, they found it would be another twenty minutes before the last train departed. They had arrived just in time. 

 

Gatomon forewent the ticket booth, marching straight to the train itself. When its doors opened they were greeted by another Gazimon, younger and far cleanlier than the one from the saloon. Donning a crisp black vest and matching cap, he must have been the conductor. With one paw extended he gave them a painfully synthetic smile.

 

‘’Tickets please!’’

 

Gatomon pulled something from her left glove and showed it to the conductor. 

 

‘’I’m sure this will suffice.’’

 

From where he stood, it looked to Wizardmon like a solid black card. Yet whatever was printed on its opposite side struck terror into the eyes of the conductor. 

 

‘’I...uh...I see. Right this way, Madam!’’

 

The conductor moved aside and gestured for her to board. Gatomon tucked away her card and stepped onto the train. Wizardmon tried to follow, but was instantly rebuked. 

 

‘’Not so fast, mister! Where’s _your_ ticket!’’ 

 

The conductor had blocked his path and fixed him with an ugly sneer. 

 

‘‘Actually,’’ Gatomon said smoothly, ‘’He’s with me.’’

 

The conductor jerked back, looked incredulously between the two, and the profusely apologized. 

 

They were promptly shown to a generously sized compartment; their host insisted it was the private compartment available. It was well furnished, fitted with leather booth-seats (easily large enough to sleep on) at each end, foot rests, ample pillows, and blankets folded neatly in the overhead storage.  Gatomon took a seat and made herself comfortable, leaning back with her paws behind her head. Wizardmon took the opposite side of the compartment, but could not relax as easily. The conductor was still hovering, wearing the same plastic smile. 

 

‘’You both must be hungry! What can I get for you?’’

 

‘’I could just die for a cream of herring stew,’’ purred Gatomon, ‘’But failing that, anything with fins and scales with suffice.’’

 

‘’Yes, yes, certainly! And you, sir?’’

 

Wizardmon didn't have an answer. He knew what he liked, but was not accustomed to being waited on. After an uncomfortable pause he conceded to _have what she’s having_ and left the decision to the someone else. 

 

‘’Very good, sir! Now please, both of you, make yourselves at home. We’ll be departing shortly.’’

 

The conductor made a gesture halfway between a bow and a salute, then withdrew and closed the door. 

 

It got quiet after that. Gatomon had shut her eyes, sinking back against the cushioned leather. She seemed well suited to luxury, whereas it put Wizardmon off kilter. He assumed the preferable treatment had something to do with Myotismon. Whoever he was, he must have held considerable sway over the affairs of the Digital World. Wizardmon had never heard the name before Gatomon mentioned it, but chalked that up to his detachment from society.

 

His thoughts came to an abrupt end when the train whistle screeched. Wizardmon parted the drapes of the compartment window and saw the landscape beginning to withdraw. They had departed. 

 

“You seem tense.” 

 

Gatomon had stirred and was now looking at him. 

 

The wizard dipped his head slightly.  

 

“I'm alright.”

 

“If you insist” said Gatomon, “but you aren't fooling anyone.”

 

Wizardmon flinched. He didn't think he could fool Gatomon if he tried; which he certainly wasn't.

“Just a little overwhelmed.” He admitted. 

 

“Already?” Gatomon snickered, “You won't last very long then. This is the easy part.”

 

_ The easy part of what? _

 

Another silence. 

 

“Gatomon?” said Wizardmon, a little hesitantly. 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“The other day at the saloon, that Gazimon was afraid of you, wasn't he?”

 

Gatomon smirked. 

 

“That he was. And he’s hardly the only one.”

 

“I gathered...”

 

Wizardmon looked down at his hands.

 

“If I stay with you, will people be afraid of me as well?”

 

“It's possible, but that depends on you.” The feline leaned forward, giving him a playful grin. “Do you want to be feared?”

 

“Of course not!” 

 

It had come out far stronger than intended. Suddenly flustered, Wizardmon hung his head and muttered a weak apology. 

 

At this, gatomon scowled. “Stop apologizing over nothing. It's a waste of breath.”

 

“I'm only being polite--”

 

“Well quit it!” She snapped, her tail twitched in agitation. “I'm getting tired of that _goodie-goodie_ routine.”

 

Far from her usual drone, she sounded petulant now. She looked it, too, with her glowering face, tight fists, and stiffened shoulders. Wizardmon was at a loss for words. He had stumbled blindly onto a sore nerve. 

 

“Routine?” 

 

“All that drivel about honor and politeness. I know an act when I see one and yours isn't very good.”

 

Evidently having a sense of propriety was a criminal offense to his companion. Wizardmon clenched his fists as anger flared within him.  _When you’ve been alone for too long, your heart becomes hard._ The words came unbidden into his thoughts and as soon as it had come, his anger subsided. A realization had just dawned on him. 

 

‘’You haven’t met many kind Digimon, have you?’’

 

She glowered at him, ‘’There are no kind Digimon.’’

 

‘’But you’re kind.’’

 

That riled her even further. Gatomon bared her fangs at him, ears pressed back against her head. ‘’On the contrary, _Wizard_ , I’m one of the worst there is. If you don’t believe me I’d be happy to persuade you!’’

 

Undaunted, Wizardmon locked eyes with her. 

 

‘’If that were true,’’ He said calmly, ‘’you’d have left me to die.’’

 

Gatomon had no response this time. For a moment she appeared to attempt a rebuttal, but must have thought better of it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away to glare at the passing landscape. Wizardmon left her to brood in silence. He’d made his point. 

  
  


When supper arrived, they ate in silence. Wizardmon stole the occasional glance at his companion. She seemed to have calmed, though the erratic _twitch_  and _thump_ of her tail against the upholstery betrayed her sour mood. Wizardmon thought to apologize, then considered it might only worsen things between them. 

 

_ Best to leave her be for now. _

  
  


Despite how the compartment rattled as the train barreled onward, Wizardmon eventually managed to fall asleep. He dreamt of vague things; people and places he hardly remembered. Scenes blurred in and out of his mind like flashes of light. He heard voices, far too many too count, all clashing against one another. They merged in a cacophony of shouts and whispers. Wizardmon tried to cover his ears but his arms were frozen. 

 

Don't listen. 

 

The racket was growing. It was so loud now he could feel each syllable like a hammer against his skull. A certain voice soared above the rest. This one called out to him by name. 

 

_ Wizardmon! _

 

It was getting closer.

 

_ WIZARDMON!! _

 

Something struck him across the face. His eyes snapped open. There was Gatomon, scowling at him. She lifted her paw to smack him a second time. 

 

“I’m awake!”

 

Wizardmon threw his hands up to guard his face. He was panting. 

 

“What’s happened? Was...was I talking in my sleep--”

 

‘Gatomon slapped a paw over his mouth and hissed into his ear, “Shut up! Do you hear that?”

 

Wizardmon held his breath and listened. Then shook his head. 

“Well I do.” She withdrew her paw, “It sounds to me like there’s someone on the roof of the train.”

 

“What?”

 

Gatomon shushed him. 

 

“I said there’s someone on the roof. I can hear their footsteps.” She whispered.

 

“Are you sure?” He whispered back.

 

“Of course! These ears never lie.”

 

“Could be...the mechanic?”

 

Gatomon looked ready to smack him again. 

 

“Don't be absurd! It's pitch black outside, what would he be doing at this hour?”

 

Fair point. 

 

“Then what?” 

  
The cat narrowed her eyes, “Trouble.”


	3. Chapter 3

Goblimon grumbled miserably as another gust buffeted him. That was three times he’d gotten sand in his eyes. Any more of this and he’d wake up blind the next morning, he was sure of it. He still didn't understand why Floramon couldn’t have waited till the train had stopped moving to rob it. Then again it wasn't exactly his place to question her methods. 

“Hush you oaf! Someone might hear you!” Scolded Floramon. 

She was knelt beside Gotsumon, their third partner in crime, discussing the next step of their plan. As always, Goblimon was barred from making contributions. His ideas weren't clever enough for Floramon. In fact she’d called them “colossally stupid” on more than one occasion. While he didn't recognize the first word, Goblimon knew enough that “stupid” wasn't a very nice thing to be called. 

A few hushed words later, Floramon finally gestured for the larger Digimon to join the conversation. He squatted beside them and listened intently. Floramon never liked to repeat herself, least of all when giving instructions. When she was finished, Floramon looked very sternly at Goblimon and asked whether he was sure he understood his part of the plan. 

“Er...yeah.” He muttered.

“Alright,” Floramon hissed, keeping her voice low as possible, “Goblimon, you wait here until I give the all clear. And be quiet! Gotsumon, come!”

Gotsumon obeyed and hurried along with her. They crept toward the edge of the roof where Gotsumon knelt and gripped one of Floramon’s vines. He held tight as she carefully lowered herself down the side of the train car and peered in through an open window. The compartment was dark, but she could see well enough by the moonlight that all its passengers were asleep. She gestured to Gotsumon, who began moving to the left until she’d reached the next unobstructed window. They repeated this for the span of the passenger cars until Floramon was satisfied. 

“We're all set.” Floramon declared as she was hoisted back onto the roof. 

“What about the compartments you couldn't see into?” Asked Gotsumon.

Floramon waved her petals dismissively, “There were hardly any. And besides, those Digimon are probably all asleep anyway. The only thing we need to worry about is taking out the conductor. That means it's your turn, Goblimon.”

 

Wizardmon peered down the empty center aisle of the main car. On either side were the cramped seats packed with sleeping passengers. He took a moment to appreciate being spared the discomfort of traveling economy style. Lack of personal space notwithstanding, quite a few of these Digimon looked as if they hadn't bathed in ages. They certainly smelled it. 

“Horrifying isn't it.” Whispered Gatomon. She must have seen him shudder. 

“It's not terrible. It's very um...intimate.” 

Gatomon frowned disapprovingly, “That’s not exactly the term I’d use.” 

Her ears twitched upward at a noise from overhead. Wizardmon could hear it as well this time, the barely audible sound of feet scuffing against a hard surface. 

“How many do you think there are?” He asked, “Can you tell?” 

“Maybe two…” Said Gatomon, “no wait. Three. It's definitely three.”

“That's not so bad.”

“I wouldn't be so sure. For all we know it could be three Ultimates up there.” 

“That would be quite bad.” 

“It's not likely, but you never--” Gatomon suddenly tensed and pressed herself to the ground. Hooking a paw behind his head, she took Wizardmon to the floor alongside her. 

“Don't. Move. A muscle.” 

Gatomon’s eyes were fixed on one of the far windows. There was a face peering through, scanning the interior. Wizardmon held his breath for several moments until the face was gone, then sighed in relief. 

“I don't think it saw us.” 

Gatomon ignored him, still staring at the window as if expecting the face to reappear. When nothing happened, she relaxed the slightest bit and declared it safe to move around again. She crept down the aisle toward the front end of the car, following the sound of footsteps above them. When they’d reached the end, Gatomon attempted to pry open the doors. 

“Locked!” She hissed. 

“What now?” Asked Wizardmon. 

Gatomon looked about the cabin, thinking. 

“Well…” She offered, “There’s still the windows.” 

“Wouldn't that be dangerous? This is a moving train. You could fall.” 

“You might. I happen to be a great climber.” 

“And besides, there’s three of them up there. You said so yourself. What if they’re hostile?”

“They’d be no match for me.”

Wizardmon grimaced. He didn't doubt that Gatomon could hold her own in battle, but three on one was a fair disadvantage. She'd be outnumbered, if not outclassed. 

“I'm sorry, but I can't let you go up there alone.” 

Gatomon sneered at that, but her protest was cut short by a muffled thud from the next car. Her ears perked and she listened. Seconds later came a shrill yelp cut short by another, even louder thud. There was a short silence, then footsteps. They were getting louder. 

“Someone's coming.” Said Gatomon, and before he could react she’d grabbed Wizardmon and tugged him under the nearest row of seats. They watched in rigid silence as the car doors rattled. Someone on the other side was trying to force their way through. With a metallic groan the doors were split. Stubby green fingers wedged themselves through the gap and widened it enough for a head to follow. It was a Goblimon. 

“You dolt!” A voice scolded from behind the doors, “I have the keys right here!”

Soon after a Floramon emerged, easily slipping through the gap. She looked hastily about the cabin, then turned back to Goblimon and snarled. 

“Oh now look what you’ve done. All that ruckus is waking them up.”

Indeed, some of the passengers had begun to stir, looking blearily to the source of the commotion. Floramon huffed “now we can't have that” and lifted her petals above her head. A glittering cloud of blue spores was loosed into the air. As soon as they’d opened their eyes, the passengers were nodding off again. 

Spores!

Wizardmon held his breath, covered his mouth, and waited for the cloud to disperse. Gatomon did likewise, paws clamped firmly over her muzzle.

When the dust had all but cleared, Floramon beckoned her two accomplices to enter the car.

“You stay here, Goblimon. If anyone wakes up, clock’em. Gotsumon, you and I will sweep the private cars, everybody got that?”

The other two nodded. 

As Gotsumon and Floramon proceeded to the next car, the mage looked to Gatomon for their next move, but she was gone. Startled, Wizardmon frantically searched for her, but found no trace as though she’d vanished into thin air. Then finally he saw it. The glint of moonlight on her golden tail ring just before she slipped into the next car and out of sight. Wizardmon was equal parts irritated and amazed. Gatomon may have deserted him, but damn if she hadn't been impressively sneaky about it. 

Still, not quite sneaky enough. Goblimon had looked over his shoulder at exactly the wrong time and had caught a glimpse of the striped tail. He growled “hey” and chased after it. 

Without thinking, Wizardmon pulled himself out from under the seats and let fly a thunderball. The orb struck Goblimon between the shoulders and the brute stumbled, but was otherwise unharmed. He looked back at his assailant, at first dumbfounded, then enraged. 

Wizardmon cursed. At full strength he should have stunned the creature, but he’d yet to fully recover. He might have been Champion class, but he was weak, and Goblimon had more than a few feet on him. Not to mention a bludgeoning tool. Wizardmon sore regretted not bringing his staff with him.

Goblimon hollered and made his charge, hoisting his club high in the air. With little space to run, Wizardmon had only one option. He sprinted toward Goblimon at full pace and at the last possible moment dove for the ground and passed between the assailant’s legs. He heard the crash of Goblimon’s club splintering the floorboards where he had previously been, then a groan of confusion. Wasting no time, the mage sprung to his feet, and bolted for the door. He’d nearly made it, but Goblimon was on him again. He caught the hem of Wizardmon’s cloak and yanked him back. The mage floundered, tripped, and for the second time that week was on his back with a slobbering hostile looming over him. 

Later on, Wizardmon would wonder whether this was a byproduct of rotten luck or his own poor choices, but at present he was too busy fighting for his life to care. Goblimon swung his club again and just barely missed. The weapon thudded against the floor barely an inch from Wizardmon’s head and he yelped, raising his hands. A violet light burst forth and sent Goblimon stumbling back, shielding his eyes with both hands as his club clattered onto the floor. Wizardmon lunged for it and hefted the thing as high as he could manage, then brought it down hard onto onto his assailant’s foot. Goblimon howled in pain, clutching the offended foot. Wizardmon took his chance and swung again at the uninjured leg. Goblimon tipped over like a felled tree and crashed onto the floor with a thud that shook the entire car. 

With the Goblin down, Wizardmon dropped the club and hurried to the next car. He tore frantically through the private compartments in search of Gatomon. Many were unoccupied; those that weren't had already been ransacked, their passengers unconscious. A nauseatingly sweet scent still hung in the air. Floramon’s spores, though dispersed, were still working their magic. Wizardmon had to braced himself against the wall at one point; the power of the spores had lessened, but he could feel himself starting to slip. 

With a sinking feeling, he noted how quiet his surroundings were. This could only be a bad sign. What if the spores had taken Gatomon? He imagined her sprawled unconscious at the feet of her assailants, utterly vulnerable. The thought made his stomach turn--Or maybe it was the smell. 

As he neared the back of the car Wizardmon could feel his insides coiling in on themselves. There was only one compartment left, and it was theirs. Gatomon and the burglars, assuming they hadn't escaped, would have to be in there. Wizardmon almost couldn't bring himself to open the door, anxious of what he might find. 

When he finally mustered the courage, it was indeed a shocking sight to behold. The compartment was in shambles with the drapes in tatters, the pillows torn open, and feathers scattered like snow. Gatomon stood in the midst of it all. Back turned, she was too preoccupied with the burglars to acknowledge him. Floramon and Gotsumon, barely conscious themselves, were seated back to back on the floor, tangled together by Floramon’s own vines. Gatomon tugged a few more times to tighten the bonds, then looked over her shoulder. 

“Took you long enough.” She said. 

Whatever he’d meant to say, the words died in his throat and plopped out as an incredulous mumble. 

“Did you glitch just now?” Gatomon drawled. 

“What happened in here?” He asked.

“Exactly what I said would happen.” Gatomon looked down at her handy work with smug satisfaction, “They had no chance. Barely even worth my time. Now about the other one…” She glanced sidelong at him, “I take it you dealt with him.”

Wizardmon wasn't sure he approved of her phrasing, at least not if it meant what he took it to mean. 

“I incapacitated him if that's what you me--”

Wizardmon never got the chance to finish that sentence. At that precise moment, as if he’d materialized for the precise purpose of fulfilling some ludicrous cosmic irony, Goblimon returned and announced himself by bludgeoning the wizard upside the head. Wizardmon landed face first at Gatomon’s feet; they were the last thing he saw before consciousness failed him.


	4. Chapter 4

The mage woke with a throbbing pain in the back of his skull. This was far from unusual. He often started the day with various aches and pains of dubious origin. He’d just about gotten used to it by now. But this one was different. He knew exactly how he’d come by it. 

Wizardmon sat upright and found himself in an unoccupied compartment. Not a trace of Floramon and her henchmen. His staff was resting on the opposite bench, and when he inspected it Wizardmon found no evidence of tampering. He could put his mind at ease in that regard. But what about Gatomon? 

One glance out the window informed him that the train had come to a full stop; it was eerily quiet. Exiting the compartment, Wizardmon wandered down the empty corridor to the next car and found it unoccupied. As was the next, and the one after that. Crestfallen, Wizardmon considered that he may have been left behind. Not that he could blame Gatomon for doing so. She’d fed him, protected him, settled his travel accommodations and generally kept him alive. And in return he'd been thoroughly useless. He'd been unable even to fend off a lone Rookie. 

When he reached the final passenger car, Wizardmon picked up the sound of muted voices from the conductor's compartment. The doors, warped along the middle from Goblimon's meddling, hadn't closed properly, leaving a fair sized gap between them. Wizardmon peered through and glimpsed Gatomon in conversation with the young Gazimon who'd boarded them. 

 

"If there's anything I can do to repay you..."

The Gazimon was grinning nervously, wringing his paws. 

Gatomon offered the barest facsimile of a smile. 

"I'm sure Lord Myotismon will think of something." 

"I--yes of course! Whatever you want!" The discomfort was all too plain in Gazimon's forced enthusiasm: jaws trembling, a muscle spasmed beneath one eye. 

 

“What are you going to do with them?”

Following Gatomon’s line of sight, Wizardmon spied the unmoving forms of Floramon and her underlings huddled in the corner, bound and gagged.

“That’s for the authorities to decide.” Something in his diction gave Wizardmon the suspicion that “the authorities” was code for something far more sinister. And probably illegal. 

"Lucky them.’’ Gatomon didn’t bother to feign interest as she turned for the door. ‘’I'll be in touch." 

Wizardmon withdrew to avoid being seen, planting himself in one of the passenger seats to feign innocence when Gatomon entered. She spotted him at once, eyes narrowed. 

 

"Let's get moving. We've wasted enough time already." Her tone was unusually bitter. Wizardmon could only assume it had something to do with him. Again. 

"Right..."

He followed her off the train. Tailing them was the Conductor, waving and bidding them safe travels. 

"My best regards to Lord Myotismon!" 

Gazimon seemed to have had tacked this on as an afterthought just before ducking out of view. 

Myotismon. 

That name was starting to rub Wizardmon the wrong way. 

The train had brought them well into forest territory. While not the sort of environment he preferred, it was most definitely an improvement. The air was mercifully cooler here, and the shade abundant.

"By the way," said Gatomon, swatting a low hanging branch from her path, "you weren't talking in your sleep."

Wizardmon had ducked just in time to avoid being smacked by the recoiling foliage. 

"Huh?"

"Last night on the train, you weren't talking in your sleep. Just thought you ought to know."

"Oh..." 

Wizardmon thought back on his dream. His nightmares had become so frequent over the years that he scarcely heeded them. There was the occasional standout, but most were a recurring sequence of garbled memories, some more or less disturbing than others. Last night's been relatively tame. 

"Does that happen often?"

Gatomon was looking back at him over her shoulder. 

Wizardmon hesitated. He preferred not to answer, but knew silence would only betray him, and Gatomon could not be fooled by lies. 

"I'm not sure, to be honest, but it's happened before. At least, that's what I've been told." 

Gatomon had slowed her pace to match strides with him. There was something uncharacteristically sympathetic in the way her eyes softened.

"You have nightmares." She was not asking. Eyes darting forward, she quietly added, "I have them, too."

The walls were thinning again. Wizardmon considered that it might be pity masquerading as genuine sympathy, then scolded himself. Whatever the intention, he had no right to question her. In the span of a few short days Gatomon had shown him more compassion than he'd known in a lifetime; however austere her methods.

“I don't mind them so much anymore.” Wizardmon lifted his staff to part the overgrowth that blocked their way and gestured for Gatomon to proceed. “After you.” 

There was a faint smile as the feline nodded in acknowledgment of his gesture. 

“Thanks, Wizardmon.”

Gatomon ducked through the clearing, then waited for him to follow, resuming her place at his side. 

“How’s your head by the way? I thought Goblimon might have cracked your skull like an egg.” 

“Still sore, but I’ll manage.” Though she could not see it, Wizardmon was smiling behind his cowI. “I might not look it but I'm quite the durable fellow.” 

“So you say...Just be careful. You can't count on me to save you every time.” 

“I know…” 

The grip on his staff tightened. Wizardmon could not fathom how he’d gotten to be such a hapless weakling. Granted, he’d never been much for battle. His talents were for the arts of illusions and healing, the latter a skill he’d neglected in recent years. It was not to say that he couldn't fight. He knew enough of combat magic to defend himself, but he was no warrior mage. That would have to change. 

“I still haven't properly thanked you." He said, "For yesterday." 

He'd yet to properly thank her for anything. It chafed at his conscience. 

"If there's anything I can do, I'd be more than willing." 

Gatomon considered the offer in silence. She had stopped walking; her pale brow was tightly drawn. 

"Anything?" 

There was a faint plead in her tone that worried him. Still Wizardmon answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

Gatomon seemed to purse her lips, eyes darting to the ground. 

"I want you to go." 

"Gatomon..."

"I mean it. I want you gone." Her tone lacked the proper malice to be called bitter. 

"But why?"

He had expected to be sent away eventually, either when he'd proven sufficiently useless, or else in a fit of frustration. This took him completely off guard. 

"Because I don't want you to go where I'm going. You don't belong there."

Of course not. He didn't belong anywhere.

"Gatomon, where are you going?"

"It's north of here, in the mountains; the foulest place in the Digital World. You'd be eaten alive. Believe me...I've seen it happen."

Gatomon locked eyes with him again , her gaze had hardened. 

"Only the strongest Digimon belong there." 

"Like Myotismon?" 

Gatomon winced so minutely he barely recognized it for what it was.

"Yes. It's his stronghold."

"And you live there?"

"My whole life." 

"That Digimon you keep mentioning, Myotismon, he raised you?" 

"I raised myself." Gatomon was starting to bristle. One ear downward, her delicate shoulders hitched ever so slightly. "Myotismon isn’t the nurturing type.”

"Who is he, exactly?" 

"My master. And he's one of the most powerful Digimon alive. He rules this territory, but he'll have the whole continent before long." 

"He's the reason people are afraid of you, isn't he?" 

"Myotismon made me who I am, but I've found plenty of enemies without his help." There was a growing snarl in her voice. "If people fear me, it's because they know what I'm capable of. And if not, they know what he's capable off." 

The mage still knew little about Gatomon and her master, but those bits and pieces he'd gleaned were starting to come together. They shaped the base forms of a stark and unpleasant picture.

"I understand...you don't want me to get involved." 

"I never did, but you insisted. It was fine for a while. I actually..." She struggled to admit what came next, "I liked having you around. But you need to leave now. You're too soft. You'd never survive in my world." 

"You’re probably right. But I wouldn't be alive at all if you hadn't saved me, and you've done so more than once now. I told you I would pay my debts, and I have no intention of going back on that. I might not be much good in combat, but I have other skills. I can be useful." 

"As canon fodder? That's what you'd be. If our enemies don't kill you, then the other soldiers will, and Myotismon won't bat an eyelash. He might kill you himself if you step out of line.” Gatomon was shouting now, “Or on a whim if he's bored!" 

"I'll just have to take the risk." 

"It's not a risk, it's a certainty!"

"I don't care."

"You're an idiot. Or crazy." 

"I think it's a bit of both." 

Gatomon looked torn between a chuckle and a sob. Taking a moment to compose herself, she touched a paw to her temple and heaved a sigh of defeat. 

"Wizardmon…” Her voice was gentle now, “I can't stop you if you decide otherwise, but there's something you must understand. Once you've joined Myotismon's army, it's forever. The moment you set foot in that castle you'll become his property. Everything you do from then on will be at his fancy. If he wants you to jump, you jump. If he wants you to eat the dirt beneath your feet, you had better eat that dirt. And if he wants you to kill, you kill.”

Gatomon allowed time for it to sink in. Her eyes, wide and baleful, were fixed on his. 

“Do you understand?"

 

Wizardmon held her gaze for a few moments, then looked down at her paws, bawled into fists at her sides. He had no doubt that she was being sincere. 

“Wizardmon. I need to know that you understand.”

“I do.” He answered. “But I haven't changed my mind.” 

“Think it over. We won’t make it to the castle before nightfall either way. Until then, think very carefully about you want your future to look like. If you want to spend the rest of your life as a slave, then so be it. It's your choice. Make it a good one." 

 

The conversation ended there. Gatomon turned her back to him and carried on, quickly out pacing him. From there onward, they traveled in silence until Wizardmon could stand it no longer. He managed to drum up scattered conversation about the wild tangle of their surroundings. Gatomon spoke matter of factly and with particular emphasis on those roots and herbs with toxic attributes. Many of which, she explained, had been unknown to the ecosystem before Myotismon’s arrival. They had been sewn by his own hand; selections from his personal garden. They proliferated, supplanting much of the natural flora with thorns, oozing fungi, and other monstrous things. He’d deemed the land an unsuitable pace without them. 

“Look here.” 

Gatomon pointed out a particular bloom; corpse blue with long, downward curling petals and a pitch black stem. Despite its fearsome thorns, Wizardmon thought it eerily beautiful. 

“We call that one splendorvile. Never touch it. Don't even go near it. Just the prick of its thorn will kill you. Painfully.” 

“That's a shame.” Said Wizardmon genuinely, admiring it from a safe distance. 

“Enough gawking” Gatomon turned on her heel and hurried onward. “it’s getting late and we need to find shelter before nightfall.” 

“What happens at nightfall?” 

“Something you don't want to be around for.” 

 

They found shelter in one of the scarce-disturbed grottos at the foot of the mountain. Near invisible behind a curtain of weeds and vines, Wizardmon might have gone past it had Gatomon not pointed it out. It was a way station, one of her many secret dens scattered throughout the mountain. 

“For emergencies.” She said. “Or when I need time to myself.” 

Within was a deep space with moist, undulating walls, and a low hanging ceiling. The air was thick with the stench of earth and ancient moss. From the mouth of the cave and inward flowed a lazy current of water that terminated in a circular pool. Though easily more than an Ogremon’s height deep toward the center, the water was clear as glass. 

Gatomon strode to the edge of the pool and crouched down to drink.

“It's perfectly clean, if that's what you're wondering.” Said Gatomon as she caught him staring. 

“Hmm? Oh no, that's not--never mind.” 

“What?”

“It's nothing.” 

Wizardmon fidgeted, turning to feign interest in an etching on the wall. He canted his head to the side, trying to decide whether the image was meant to be of a flower or a star. It was too crude a depiction to tell. He traced a finger along one of its grooves and wondered if Gatomon had been its maker. 

A splash echoed through the chamber, drawing Wizardmon’s attention back to the pool. Gatomon was now washing her face. Her gloves had been put aside, revealing her delicate white paws. Wizardmon marveled at at just how small they were. Then he noticed the scars. Angry pink gashes marred the pristine white sheen of her coat.

The mage averted his eyes and resisted the temptation to stare. Curiosity nagged at the fringes of his mind, but he suppressed it. A Digimon’s scars were her business alone. 

“I think I’ll gather some firewood. Before it gets too dark.” He said, heading toward the mouth of the cave.

“Already done” said Gatomon, pulling on her gloves. 

She moved deeper into the cave, tracing a claw lightly along the wall. She was searching for something. When it was found she uttered a soft ‘’aha’’ and pressed both paws against the stone. The cave rattled with an echo of stone grinding on stone as a section of the wall opened. Wordlessly, Gatomon slipped into the aperture and out of view. 

Wizardmon hurried after her and discovered the entrance to small hidden chamber. Within was a modest horde of crates and barrels; Gatomon was busy rifling through one of them. 

‘’What is all this?’’ Wizardmon asked.

Gatomon emerged from the crate, bringing along armfuls of chopped wood.

‘’Just some supplies. I’ve been stocking up over the years.’’

‘’Some?” 

Wizardmon had scanned the room and found just about everything a Digimon of the outdoors could need. Tools and first aid supplies, blankets and pillows (albeit threadbare), firewood of course, and most importantly food rations. Ignoring the complaints of his stomach, Wizardmon tore his eyes from a particularly tempting jar of pickled peaches. They were not his to touch. 

“By the looks of it, you could last a whole winter in here.’’ He said.

‘’I’d prefer it didn't come to that, but you never know. Life has a funny way of throwing unpleasant surprises at you.’’

Wizardmon couldn't help but wonder if he numbered among those unpleasant surprises. 

‘’That’s very resourceful of you.’’

‘’In my line of work, being resourceful is a must.” 

Gatomon added two jars of preserves to her load, then proceeded to the main chamber. Wizardmon offered his assistance, but was staunchly rejected.

“You can’t count on anyone to look after you but yourself.’’ Said the feline. Stopping a suitable distance from the edge of the pool, she knelt and arranged a base for their fire. 

‘’It doesn't have to be that way anymore.” Said Wizardmon, kneeling beside her. He gestured for her to stand back, then flicked his wrist and gave spark to the fire.

“You and I could look after eachother.’’

‘’You really are naive.” Gatomon tossed him one of the jars she’d brought out, keeping the other for herself. “Sorry to disappoint you, but if you do join Myotismon’s army--and I sincerely hope you aren’t idiot enough to do so--then you’ll be on your own.”

Now seated across from him, she glowered over the crackling flames.

“I’m an officer, I’ll have duties to attend to. But you? You’ll be stuck with the rest of the grunts. You’ll have to live by their rules, and if they single you out as a weakling, they’ll be on you like flies on a carcass. Is that what you want?’’

Wizardmon bowed his head and watched the wood blacken and curl as it burned.

‘’I want to be of use to you.’’

‘’Well you can't.” 

Gatomon broke the seal on her jar and began helping herself to its contents. 

“You’re a weakling.” She said, then slurped down a mouthful of pink slush that looked and smelled suspiciously like fish guts. “You can't even stand up for yourself, let alone fend off an enemy. How on earth could you be of use to me?’’

Wizardmon opened his own jar and nearly gagged at the pungent odor of salted fish. However starved he was, he had no intention of putting that foul business in his body.

‘’I know I’m not much use as a fighter, but I do know magic. I can heal, too. A soldier needs a medic, don’t they?’’

 

The feline grimace, looking genuinely confounded. 

“You're really bent on this, aren't you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Sleep on it. Picture the rest of your life as a waking nightmare, and then sleep on it. Maybe a good rest will fix whatever's gone wrong with your brain.” 

Having inhaled her share of the meal, Gatomon now licked the dregs from her claws. 

Wizardmon smiled at her behind his cowl.

“I wouldn't count on it.” 

By the look on her face, Gatomon must have wanted very much to smack him, but he was mercifully out of reach. 

“Eat your food then. If you still plan on being a soldier when morning comes...well, let's just say you’ll be needing the energy.” 

Wizardmon shuddered. He considered asking for something more palatable, but could not bring himself to trample her hospitality. He brought the jar to his lips and the stench alone brought him close to heaving. Just be done with it, he thought to himself. Steeling his nerves, Wizardmon tipped his head back and swallowed as much of the offal as he could manage before gagging. Which wasn't much. 

Over the sound of his own retching, Wizardmon heard a snicker from Gatomon. 

‘’Pace yourself.’’ The cat chortled, ‘’You’ve got a long way to go and it only gets worse from here.’’

‘’I’ll—’’ Wizardmon heaved again, then continued in a strained voice. ‘’I’ll manage.’’

Gatomon watched, shaking her head as the mage doggedly refused to surrender and went back for a second helping. More gags followed; Wizardmon lurched, suppressing a groan of sheer anguish, then took another mouthful.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep did not come easy for Wizardmon that night. If it hadn't been the discomfort of pickled fish guts putrefying in his stomach that kept him up, it would most certainly have been the screams. Gatomon had not been lying about what went on after dark. It wasn't long after the sun went down that Wizardmon began to hear the sounds of nocturnal mayhem echoing in the distance. Howls and snarls; giant feet thundering through the wood. Every now and then came the shrieks of a Digimon in agony. Shrieks that were cut short by the claws and teeth of an unseen predator. 

The chaos had mostly abated by dusk, and it was only then that Wizardmon managed a few short hours of sleep before Gatomon nudged him awake. 

"Let's go. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Their makeshift camp was dismantled and all traces of it hidden away or disposed of. Gatomon insisted on leaving the site as empty as when they'd arrived lest any hapless intruders stumble upon it and discover its secrets. 

They kept a brisk pace that morning. At least Gatomon did. Wizardmon struggled to keep up, every so often sprinting to close the distance between them only to fall behind again. Gatomon scolded him once or twice, but for the most part ignored him. 

As they trekked higher into the mountain, their path began to slope upwards. It was a gradual incline at first, but after a mile or so their path thrusted skyward into steep rocky crags. True to her word, Gatomon scaled them with remarkable ease. Wizardmon was ill equipped to follow. After several failed attempts at hauling himself up, he opted to do things his own way. He might not be much of a climber, but there were other ways to scale a mountain.

Wizardmon took a deep breath and centered himself. It had been some time since his last flight, and though he'd recovered significantly under Gatomon's care, he was not yet at full strength. Still, he ought to be well enough for this. Levitation was among the first skills he'd mastered; at one time it had been second nature to him. Now though, he'd grown ill accustomed to it. Flight was a simple trick, but required a significant amount of energy, energy he hadn't had until very recently. 

After a great deal of focus, Wizardmon felt his feet peel upwards from the dirt. It was a slow start, but not a terrible one. Within a few more moments, he'd managed to put some distance between himself and the ground. A few moments more and that distance had tripled. A jolt of excitement rattled through him when he looked down at the trees shrinking away. The thrill of weightlessness was one he'd sorely missed. 

 

As he glided past, Wizardmon used one of the cat's own taunts against her.

 

“Better pick up the pace or I’ll have to leave you behind."

 

Gatomon paused mid climb and watched him ascend, looking scandalized. 

"That's not fair!” She hollered after him. 

The response from Wizardmon was an over emphatic shrug. 

"You have your strengths, I have mine. But seeing as we're pressed for time..." He hovered back down to her, "I'd be happy to help you." 

The mage offered his hand and Gatomon swiped at it. 

"No thank you", she spat, "I don't need your help." 

"If you say so." Wizardmon couldn't help but be amused at the way her face scrunched into an indignant pout, though he did manage to hold back a chuckle. "See you at the top!”

 

He could hear the feline grumbling to herself as he ascended. 

 

When Gatomon reached the top of the crag, Wizardmon again offered his hand, and again was rejected. 

 

“The offer still stands.” He said, “I could fly you the rest of the way there.”

 

“Don't waste your energy.” Gatomon panted, hoisting herself onto the ledge. She marched onward without pause and with her head held high. Wizardmon noted the way her limbs trembled. She must have overexerted herself.

 

“Why won't you accept my help?”

 

Gatomon didn't bother to look back. 

 

“Because I haven't asked for it.”

 

“And I never asked for yours.” Wizardmon hustled to catch up with her, “But you helped me anyway, even when you knew you had nothing to gain.” 

 

“That was different.” Head turned to the side, Gatomon seemed bent on avoiding eye contact, “You’d have died if I hadn't done something.”

 

“All the more reason to let me help. It's genuinely the least I can do considering all you've done for me.”

 

“No, the least you could have done would have been taking off when I asked you to. You could have walked away and been done with it. But instead you insist on following me around like some lost kitten.” She glowered at him, “It’s pathetic! Don't you have anything better to do!”

 

Wizardmon slowed, falling behind again.

 

“You’re right.” He said, matter-of-fact. 

 

Gatomon stopped, but did not look back. 

 

“I am quite pathetic.” He continued. “The fact is I don't have anything better to do. And I confess part of the reason I’ve followed you this long is because...well, I’d have nowhere else to go.”

 

Gatomon paused, then glanced back at him.

 

‘’No home?’’ She asked. 

 

‘’Not anymore.’’

 

Gatomon pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled heavily. Her shoulders slumped and she glanced back at him, half frowning, then looked forward again. There came an overly weary sigh and she said, “Fine. If it really means that much to you, then fine.” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yes.” Gatomon gestured for him to approach, “Now hop to it before I change my mind.”

 

“Right then.” Wizardmon froze, realizing he’d never actually taken a passenger before. Gatomon was quite small, and he imagined not too heavy, but how should he go about carrying her? He would need one arm to hold his staff, and that didn't leave many options. He could easily tuck her under the other arm, if she were light enough, but it might offend her pride to be totted like a plush animal. 

 

“Excuse me, Gatomon,” he asked, “but how would you prefer to be held?”

 

“What?”

 

“If I'm to carry you, I'd like to know how you prefer to be held.”

 

Gatomon’s cool demeanor faltered, “I thought we were going to fly the rest of the way?”

 

“We are, technically. But I’ll be doing the actual flying.”

 

“You said you knew magic!” The cat stabbed a claw in his direction, “Can't you make me fly?”

 

“It doesn't work that way I'm afraid. Listen, if you’re uncomfortable with一”

 

Gatomon lifted her paw to hush him. 

 

“No. No more discussing. Do whatever you need to, just don't drop me, alright? Because if you do, there will be dire consequences!” 

 

“Alright.’’ Wizardmon gave it a bit more thought, ‘’Why don't you climb onto my back then? I think you’d be most comfortable that way.” 

 

Struggling to fend off a grimace, Gatomon approached and stood behind him. Wizardmon took a knee to accommodate her. Contrary to his assumptions, she was actually quite heavy for someone so small. It was by no means more than he could handle, but it surprised him nonetheless. 

 

“Hold on tight, okay?”

 

“Okay.” There was a nervous edge in her voice as Gatomon circled her arms around his neck. Her claws flexed, snagging onto the fabric of his clothes and coming dangerously close to his skin. 

 

Wizardmon stood and prepared for the takeoff. 

 

“Are you ready?”

 

"Yes." As she said this, Gatomon's grip tightened and her claws tensed again, faintly pricking his skin. 

"Good. Now, I assume this is your first time flying, so we'll take it slow." 

Wizardmon lifted gently into the air, hovering only a few inches at first. His ascent continued at a drowsy pace until inches had become feet and feet had become yards. 

"Doing alright back there?" He asked, tilting forward as he gained speed. 

"I'm fine." Gatomon's voice had spiked an octave and a half. Her arms tightened around his neck. Any more of that and she might as well be choking him. "Can't you go any faster?"

"As you wish." 

 

His glide quickened. Trees tall as towers shrank to little green blotches as Wizardmon pulled higher into the air. From this vantage point, the pair could see for miles ahead of them. It was all mountains fading back into the pale horizon. 

They fell into silence again, only this time Wizardmon didn't mind. Instead, he savored the roar of the wind sweeping past his ears; the sound of his cloak fluttering behind him. 

Gatomon was holding on tight as ever, but her arms no longer trembled. Wizardmon took this for a sign that she’d begun to acclimated herself to being off the ground. If only a little bit. 

"Enjoying the view?" He asked. 

"Hmm?" The response was a delayed one; Gatomon had been caught up in musings of her own.

Wizardmon repeated the question. 

"It's..." Gatomon struggled to give an answer. "...nice." 

"Just nice?" 

Gatomon made an uncomfortable sound, more of a whine than a groan.

"It's beautiful. Is that what you want to hear?" 

"If you don't like it you can say so." 

She groaned again, "No it's not that. I do like it, it's just...."

"Overwhelming?”

Gatomon didn't answer, but he felt the tuft of her right ear brush his cheek when she nodded. 

"Will you be alright?"

“Yeah I一” Gatomon suddenly lifted her paw and shouted, "There! I can see the castle."

Wizardmon searched the approaching mountainside until he'd spotted it. Planted atop the tallest peak was a sprawling castle. It was massive; a ponderous bulwark of stark grey with walls that sloped at crooked angles. An involuntary shudder passed over him and he wondered, self conscious, if Gatomon had felt it. 

 

"Where do I land?" He asked. 

"Whatever you do, keep off the grass." Said Gatomon. 

Wizardmon stuttered out a nervous half chuckle that died out into choked cough. He wasn't certain whether or not she'd meant that to be humorous, but evidently he'd gotten it wrong. 

Ignoring his lapse of decorum, Gatomon gestured to a hexagonal courtyard among the cluster of stone keeps. 

"There's good." 

 

At the center of the courtyard was a disused fountain. Diamond shaped, empty pedestals were perched at its four corners. Who or whatever had once stood upon then was long since gone; only the broken stumps remained. Wizardmon landed nearby and crouched down for his passenger to dismount. Gatomon lept from him and landed soundlessly on her rear paws. She took a moment to smooth her coat, ruffled by the wind, then turned to Wizardmon. 

 

‘’Well, here we are.’’ She said. 

 

Wizardmon glanced around the barren courtyard and imagined it might have been beautiful once. A ring of dead trees encircled the fountain, and beyond them was laid the dregs of what he assumed had once been a lovely garden. Scattered among the weeds and thorns were even more pedestals, all vacant, some of them cracked and broken to the very base. Had he not known otherwise, he would have taken the castle for abandoned by the state of its courtyard alone. 

 

‘’A bit sparse, isn’t it?’’ He said. 

 

‘’Ugly is the word you’re looking for.’’ Said Gatomon, ‘’And just wait till you see the rest of it.’’

 

Gatomon crossed the courtyard to a portal at the northernmost end. Nestled atop the double doors was a half moon tympanum whose image had been crudely chipped away. Wizardmon spotted a surviving fragment in the bottom left corner depicting what looked to be glyphs of Digicode, but he had no time to read them. 

 

“Would you mind.” Gatomon was standing with her paws clasped behind her back. She looked at him expectantly. 

 

“Yes. Right away.” Wizardmon stole one last glance at the code fragment, then hurried to open the doors for her. They were beyond heavy. Wizardmon pushed and pulled, he spread his legs wide and strained his scrawny arms, but still they wouldn't budge. 

 

Gatomon tsk’d and gently pushed him aside. He thought he’d heard her mutter “weakling” as she pulled open the left hand door with ease and held it open. 

 

“Sorry.” Wizardmon rubbed at his sore arms. He’d probably pulled a muscle. Or possibly all of them. 

 

“Just get inside.” Gatomon was tapping her foot impatiently. 

 

Wizardmon ducked inside and soon heard the door slam behind him. Gatomon marched ahead wordlessly and he followed as she led him down the unlit corridor. 

 

“Where is everyone?” He asked. 

 

“Various places.” Said Gatomon. “Working the kitchens, tending the armory, sweeping the dungeons...you’ll see soon enough.” 

 

Lights came into view at the far end of the corridor: the flickering of torches. Wizardmon could hear movement and faint voices, growing louder as they proceeded. Rounding the nearest corner, they uncovered the source. A small group of Digimon were gathered just around the bend, talking amongst themselves. One of them, a Vegiemon, had just finished cracking a lewd joke and was now snickering along with the rest. 

 

Gatomon cleared her throat loudly and the laughter died. Four faces turned in her direction and paled the moment they saw her. 

 

“Gatomon!” Cried one of two Numemon, “It’s not what it looks like! We were just一”

 

“Just slacking off!” Gatomon snapped, “You’re supposed to be patrolling this area of the castle, is that right? Well is it!”

 

The four nodded hastily, but none dared to speak. The group scattered at once among whimpers of “yes sir” and “right away, sir”.

"Except for you一" Gatomon grabbed one of the retreating Numemon by his antenna and he yelped. 

"Agh! Y-yes, Sir?"

"Where is DemiDevimon? I have an errand for him." 

"I uh...I don't remember!" The Numemon winced when Gatomon tightened her grasp, "It's the truth! I promise! Please don't hurt me, Gatomon, Sir!"

Gatomon sneered and released the poor creature, clearly reluctant to do so. 

"Fine, I'll find him myself. Now back to work!" 

"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Sir!" 

The Numemon tore down the hall and out of sight faster than seemed possible. 

"Let's go." Gatomon snipped, her mood soured. She all but stomped the rest of the way down the corridor and to another set of doors. She didn't bother waiting for Wizardmon this time and swung a door open. Wizardmon barely managed to squeeze through before it slammed shut again. 

After what seemed like an endless succession of twisting stairways and empty corridors, they finally reached a more populated section of the castle. Gatomon led them through an open air colonnade with a spectacular view of the mountainside, not that Wizardmon had the chance to admire it. Just below them was a terrace where several Digimon were gathered. At the helm of this group was a round, bearded creature with boxing gloves and one of the loudest voices Wizardmon had ever heard. He was busy berating the group for their apparent lack of physical discipline.

The colonnade lead them onto a balcony that loomed over one of the main halls. Wizardmon peered over the edge and observed a raucous affair. Down in the hall were rows of tables. Crowding those tables and the spaces between was a motley horde of Digimon. Some kept to themselves, others clumped together in groups of four or five, all of them eating, spitting, brawling, laughing and generally being as disorderly as possible. Wizardmon felt for the poor souls who would be left to clean the mess. 

"They're a lovely bunch." He said. 

Gatomon either hadn't heard or didn't care. She was busy scanning the crowd. Wizardmon assumed she must be looking for that fellow she'd asked about earlier. Demi-something-or-other. 

 

Her ears perked suddenly and she leapt from the balcony. She landed with equal grace as before and made a beeline through the unruly crowd. Wizardmon followed一or rather he tried to. The crowd would not part for him as it had for Gatomon, and he was soon lost in a fray of loud voices and intrusive elbows. 

"Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me, may I pass? Sir?"

All but mute in the sea of voices, Wizardmon made a futile attempt to maneuver his way forward. Just as he began to make progress his shoulder bumped a cantankerous Roachmon who was quick to lash out and shoved him roughly. Wizardmon collided with a second Digimon, Mushroomon, who turned and sneered at him. 

"Watch it!"

Wizardmon threw up his hands and shrank away, muttering a hasty apology. 

Fearing an encore of the saloon fiasco, Wizardmon backed out of crowd and again resolved to do things the easy way. He hovered above the crowd until the familiar white shape of Gatomon announced its presence among the dark shapes surrounding her. She was beside a table near the center of the hall speaking with another Digimon. A petite blue lump with leather wings and stubby legs, it’s voice screeched loud and clear above the rest.

"Look, Sister, I don't know where ya get off tryin' ta boss me around, but I take my orders from the top and no one else! Ya hear!" 

Gatomon growled something in reply, but Wizardmon could not hear it over the ruckus. Whatever she'd said, it made the little blue one uneasy.

 

Wizardmon touched down beside the feline and she turned at once to berate him. 

"What took you?"

The blue Digimon gave Wizardmon a once over, then squawked disapprovingly. 

"Is this the guy? He's a runt! Look at 'im!"

"This coming from a flying football", Gatomon drawled, paws at her hips. "Now do as you’re told and find a job for this one." She nodded her head towards the mage.

"Doing what? He looks like he'd pull a muscle just tryin'a lift a cardboard box!"

"That's not my problem. Just get it done already. Then you can go back to wasting everyone else's time. If you'll excuse me," Gatomon turned away from them both, "I have important things to do." 

With a flick of her tail Gatomon strutted away, ignoring Wizardmon when he called after her. The mage grimaced behind his cowl and watched her disappear into the crowd. She never once looked back. 

"Feh!" Spat the blue Digimon. "That cat's got some nerve, I tell ya!" 

Wizardmon wasn't sure if the creature were speaking to him, or simply thinking aloud. A moment later its wide yellow eyes were fixed on him and the blue Digimon huffed.

"So you're the new guy, huh? Well I'm DemiDevimon, but you can call me DemiDevimon Sir!"

Even without Gatomon to rail against, DemiDevimon made no attempts to lower his voice. Wizardmon tried his best not to flinch, but every syllable was like a kick to the eardrum. He could only hope he would someday grow accustomed to it. 

"Yes, Sir.’’ He said, then corrected himself, ‘’That is...DemiDevimon, Sir."

 

DemiDevimon humphed, “Finally, somebody around here with a little respect! You got a name, Tall Hat?”

 

“It’s Wizardmon, Sir.” 

 

“Well then, Wizardmon, I got just the job for ya!” DemiDevimon launched himself from the table top and into the air, “If you’ll follow me!” 

 

‘’Forgive me, Sir, but...’’ Wizardmon eyed a criminally uneaten scrap of bread at one of the nearby tables and was suddenly aware that he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. His stomach churned out a weak plea and the mage unconsciously placed a hand over his abdomen to soothe it. 

 

‘’But what?’’ asked DemiDevimon, scowling. 

 

‘’Nevermind.’’ Said Wizardmon, ‘’It’s nothing.’’


	6. Chapter 6

Many floors below, in the bowels of the castle, lay the dungeons: a sprawl of dank, mossy tunnels smothered by the low vaulted ceiling. Its cells, with their crooked and rusting bars, were gouged unevenly into the walls like termite holes. It was bitter cold, but far worse was the stench of rot that choked the air. 

"Alrighty, Tall Hat, as you can see the place is just filthy, and that's no good! Being a classy guy an'all, Lord Myotismon likes his castle clean as a newborn Pabumon and that includes the dungeons!" 

Grimacing behind his cowl, Wizardmon nodded. "I see. And it'll be my job to clean them?" 

"Bingo, my friend! Ya' sure catch on quick!"

Suspecting the Virus had meant this in ridicule, Wizardmon chose not to acknowledge it.

"Alrighty" DemiDevimon fluttered back to the stairway, "Knock yourself out!"

Wizardmon called after him. 

"Wait! What am I meant to clean with, DemiDevimon, Sir?" 

"Eh..." If the bat could shrug, he might have done so then, "I'm sure there's a mop or somethin' lyin' around here somewhere. You figure it out!" 

Then he flitted up the stairwell, ignoring any further protests and leaving the mage to fend for himself.

Wizardmon spent the better part of a minute trying to stave off a burgeoning headache before getting to work. Priority one was finding something to do the task with. Failing that一well, he would just have to get a little creative. 

He found most of the cells were empty, albeit the poor lighting made it difficult to tell. A few times he'd passed by a rough silhouette and mistaken it for rocky protrusion, only to stumble back in surprise when the figure suddenly moved. One of the wretched things had even reached through the bars when his back was turned and snagged his foot. When he turned to look, the shadow snarled something in a voice too broken to understand. Wizardmon might have pitied the beast if he hadn't been so afraid. After wrestling himself free, he made a point of keeping his distance from the bars. 

The search remained fruitless; Wizardmon had all but given up when his ears caught the echo of a voice from deep within the tunnels. It was faint, but he could just barely note the cadence of a melody, and it was one he recognized. 

Wizardmon followed the voice. It led him past a fork in the tunnel and down a curved pass until he finally came round to a massive, domed room. It was spacious, and mostly empty. To one end stood three doors of equal size, all of them padlocked. Spaced evenly on the walls were hooks, chains, and other unpleasant things hanging rusted and limp from disuse. At the center of it all was an elevated stone platform, diamond shaped, and spattered crudely with ominous black stains. 

It was beside the platform that Wizardmon found the singer, scrubbing away at those dark stains. The creature looked like an oversized candle with oozing wax flaps for arms. The Digimon bounced and swayed as it sang:

Here, here, boys now take my advice   
To Serverland I’ll have you not be goin’  
This place is such a bore   
And the work it leaves me sore  
How I wish I were again on File Island!

He’d seen creatures like this one before. If memory served, it was of the Candlemon breed. 

"Excuse me?" Said Wizardmon. 

Candlemon went on singing and swaying. Wizardmon tried again, louder this time.

“Excuse me!”

The song came to an abrupt end. Candlemon turned round with a start. 

“Who’s there?!” 

It was a raspy little squeak of a voice. 

“My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you.” Said Wizardmon. “I was asked to clean this area but I’m afraid I don't know my way just yet. Maybe you could tell me where to find some cleaning supplies?”

“The nearest store room is quite a ways from here”, saidCandlemon, “But don't worry, you can use the stuff I brought一here.”

Candlemon picked up a broom from where it had been laying on the floor and tossed it to the mage. Wizardmon tried for it but missed. It clattered to the floor and he retrieved it at once. Candlemon snorted.

 

“And they call me Butterfingers!” 

 

“Sorry.” Said Wizardmon. 

 

Candlemon waved a hand at him, “Don’t sweat it. Everything in this place is worthless old junk. Oh一and the wash bucket’s over there. Have at it.” 

 

“Thank you...but won't you be needing it, as well?” 

 

“I thought we could share. I mean, it gets pretty lonely down here on your own. And boring, too! Some company would be nice, ya know?” 

Wizardmon smiled and nodded. 

"Oh, gosh! What am I doing!" Candlemon slapped a hand against his face, then stretched out an arm. "I haven't introduced myself!"

Wizardmon stepped closer and accepted the waxy appendage. It was warm, and uncomfortably malleable, conforming to the shape of his hand.

"I’m Candlemon", said the creature, "but you can call me Candy if you want. That's what my friends call me.” 

"Hello, Candle一er, Candy."

The word lolled awkwardly from his tongue. He'd never met a Digimon with a proper name. 

"As for me, I’m called Wizardmon.” 

 

“Nice to meet ya, Wizardmon!” Candlemon flashed him a toothy smile. “How long’ve you been with us? I don't think I’ve seen you before. I mean the castle is big, but not that big.”

 

“This is my first day. I arrived not too long ago.” 

 

“So you're really fresh off the boat, huh? Well, don't sweat it. I know this place is kinda scary but it’s really not so bad if you’re in the right company. Stick with me and you’ll be just fine! Me and mine’ll look out for ya!” 

Candlemon clapped him on the shoulder with a bit too much enthusiasm. Wizardmon stumbled forward, but caught himself. 

"Thank you." He said, checking his cloak for any waxy leavings. "That's very kind.” 

"Don’t mention it." Candlemon said. "Say if you don’t mind me asking, how'd you end up all the way out here? I’ve been all over Server and I’ve never seen another mon like you. You must be from real far away. " 

‘’I was enlisted by a friend." 

 

Not exactly true, but Candlemon didn't need to know that. 

"Hey! Me, too! You know I ought to introduce you to my buddies, I bet they'd love you. And they're really nice I swear!" 

"Oh...um..." Wizardmon fidgeted, "That's quite generous but I couldn't ask一"

"Nonsense!" Candlemon shoved him playfully. "The more the merrier, right? Us Rookie's gotta stick together!" 

They kept up the small talk as they went about their work. That was to say, Candlemon did most of the talking and Wizardmon would contribute now and then with a polite but vague response. 

Eventually, Wizardmon asked a question. 

"What was it you were singing earlier? I thought the melody sounded familiar." 

"Oh that?" Candlemon paused mid-scrub and looked over. "Just some old ditty I picked up on the road a while back. I don’t actually remember the words, but the melody always stuck with me, so I just made up my own.’’

‘’Mind if I ask where you heard it?’’

Candlemon tapped his lips as he thought about it. 

‘’There was this street performer…guy was singing songs for money. Real shabby looking. I guess he was a beggar or something. Anyway it was in a little town called...hmm...I can't remember exactly, but it was way out in the woods. Smelled kinda funky. Freaky lookin’ plants growing all over everything.” 

"Flora Village?"

"Yeah, that's the one!’’ Candlemon lit up and jabbed a waxy finger in his direction. ‘’Man, you think I’d have a hard time forgetting. The place was practically overrun with Floramon一no wonder it smelled! You been there, too?" 

Wizardmon chose to overlook the unsavory comment. "I spent a night or two there once. Not much to tell.”

He went back to scrubbing and said no more.

As the hours wore on, Candlemon filled the time with tales of his friends and their mischievous exploits. Their names were Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon, resident pranksters and genius comedians一according to Candlemon at least. The former, Pumpkinmon, seemed to be the ringleader of their little group. Being the oldest and so called cleverest, any and all shenanigans began and ended at his insistence. One of their more recent escapades had been to infiltrate the kitchens and lace that night’s rations with ipecac. 

 

‘’It was a riot!’’ Candlemon snorted. He could barely contain his laughter. ‘’Everybody was puking their guts out. They all thought they were gonners. One mon even cried!’’

 

‘’That seems a little extreme.’’

 

‘’What? Nah! It was just a harmless prank. Well, maybe not totally harmless, but it’s not like we killed anybody. You know, I think ya’ just had to be there.’’

 

‘’I can’t imagine Myotismon was very amused.’’

 

‘’Oh gosh, he was livid! It was hilarious!’’ Candlemon wiped a gleeful tear from his eye and sighed. Looked like he was gonna give himself an aneurism!’’

‘’Weren’t you afraid of getting caught?’’

"Nah, DemiDevimon always gets the heat for this kinda stuff一but don't feel too bad for'm. The guy's a real jerk. And a suck up, too! Nobody likes him.”

 

They made slow progress through the dungeons. Much of the muck and moss was so caked on it required tireless chiseling to displace. Candlemon piped up with a mild complaint every so often but seemed otherwise not to mind. He was, by his own admission, just happy to have company for once. And though the Rookie was not an ideal companion, Wizardmon was happy, too. What Candlemon lacked in intelligent conversation he made up for in cheerful energy and unbridled optimism. That was hard to come by in the Digital World. 

The end of the day was marked by the far off tolling of tower bells. Candlemon rejoiced at the sound. 

"Finally!" He squealed, dropping his mop and scrubber and, leaving them where they fell, hurried down the tunnel. When Wizardmon did not immediately follow, he stopped and turned back. 

"Don't you hear the bells? Work's over. It's supper time. And we better get to the mess hall fast before all the good rations are gone!"

Candlemon took him by the arm and all but dragged him the long way back to the mess hall. When they arrived, the place was already mobbed and even more hungry Digimon were swarming into the fray, knocking elbows to get ahead in the breadline. Above the clamor, Wizardmon heard two voices shouting a familiar name. 

"Hey it's Candy! Over here, Candy Corn!" 

Towards the head of the line were a pair of Digimon waving fervidly. One was a little stone golem and the other a rag doll with a jack-o-lantern for a head. 

"Heya guys!" Shouted Candlemon, waving back at them. 

He was quick to join them, apparently deaf to the protests of those at the middle and back of the line. Wizardmon had chosen to stay behind, but when he saw Candlemon eagerly beckoning, he gave in and followed, muttering apologies along the way. 

"Hey, guys!" Candy put his arm around Wizardmon's shoulders and drew him into their little cluster. "This is Wizardmon, he's a newbie just like me." 

"Nice ta meet'cha!" The rag doll extended his hand. "I'm Pumpkinmon, and this guy here一" then with his other hand he gestured to the golem, "一is Gotsumon." 

Wizardmon took the offering. Pumpkinmon shook his hand with unbridled enthusiasm and a shockingly powerful grip. 

"Pleasure." Said Wizardmon, withdrawing his hand before Pumpkinmon could dislocated it. "Candlemon has told me a lot about you two." 

Candlemon pouted. 

"I told you, it's Candy. Can-dee." 

"Right. Sorry." Wizardmon corrected himself. "Candy has told me a lot about you." 

"Oh boy," Gotsumon chortled and elbowed his rag doll companion, "All good things I hope?" 

"Yes, yes, of course. He mentioned you two get up to all kinds of adventures." 

"You bet!" Pumpkinmon beamed with pride. "A mon's gotta live, right? And this place is so boring!"

Gotsumon pitched in. "So we like to spice things up now and then. Makes this dump a little more bearable." 

"Hey!" A third voice interjected. 

They had reached the front of the line where a surly looking Demimeramon was waiting to serve them. 

"Save the chit-chat for later," said Demimeramon, "you idiots are holding up the line!" 

The four of them took their rations一rock hard bread and tasteless murky water passing as soup一and were off to find a table. Pumpkinmon led the search. He spotted a partially vacant table half clustered with Numemon and marched over with his mitts in the air. 

"Get outta here! Shoo!" He cried. 

When the Numemon saw who it was shouting at them, they scattered like Roachmon under a bright light. 

"Yeah, you better run!" Candy shook his fist at them, then turned and grinned at a disconcerted Wizardmon. 

"Those slime balls know better than to mess with Pumpkinmon." Said Candy. "He may look small and cuddly but he's an Ultimate, and nobody messes with an Ultimate."

The four of them sat: Pumpkinmon with Gotsumon at one side of the bench, and Candy with Wizardmon at the other. The former three scarfed down their rations without complaint. Wizardmon wasn't as eager to do so. He attempted one bite of the stale bread but, unable to get his teeth in, set it aside to be taken by whosoever wanted it. The soup was edible at least, if hardly palatable. Soft, mysterious chunks of what he hoped to gods were vegetables floated lazily in the broth. They, too, were tasteless. 

"Guys, you'll never believe what happened to me today." Pumpkinmon set down his freshly emptied bowl and swooned. There was a wistful look in his eyes as he leaned forward to prop his chin upon his hands. "That Gatomon talked to me for the first time ever. She actually talked to me!"

Wizardmon looked up from his rations, but kept quiet. 

"No way!" Said Gotsumon. "You're lettin' your imagination run away with you." 

"No, no, it's true!" Said Pumpkinmon. "She looked right at me and said 'out of my way you dunce'." He sighed again. "It was magical." 

Gotsumon snorted and shook his head. "You've got a real problem, man." 

"Yeah!" Candlemon chimed in. "Somebody call a doctor, 'cause you're love sick!" 

The rag doll pouted. "C'mon, guys, that's not fair! Haven't you ever been in love?" 

His companions stuck out their tongues and gagged. 

"Excuse me?" Said Wizardmon. "But who is this Gatomon person, anyhow?" 

While Pumpkinmon swooned, Candlemon and Gotsumon shared a look of distaste. 

"She's one of the top dogs around here." Said Gotsumon. "Or top cat if you wanna get technical. She's been in the castle longer than just about anybody, 'cept for DemiDevimon." 

Candlemon stepped in. "She and Demi are Myotismon's loyal lackeys. And believe you me, she's a force to be reckoned with."

"She's super strong." Added Pumpkinmon. "And cool. And smart. And pretty..." 

"And mean!" Candlemon said. 

This was met with a scowl from Pumpkinmon. 

"Hey! I bet you'd be in a rough mood of you had to spend all your time with those blood-suckers!" 

 

“Quit defending her! She ain’t worth it!”

“You take that back!”

"Cool down, you two!” Gotsumon got between them. “We're all friends here!" 

He nudged Pumpkinmon, who had pulled a sour face. Reluctantly the Ultimate smiled. 

"Yeah...you're right. Sorry I yelled at ya, Candy Corn, but you know what they say. Love makes a mon go crazy!" 

"Ey, don't sweat it!" Said Gotsumon, "We gotta take your mind off'a that cat, and I know just the thing, too." 

 

The golem winked and his companions, snickering, shared knowing glances. 

 

Supper ended and the crowds dispersed as kitchen staff shooed them out with brooms and ladles. In the mad scramble of Digimon pushing and shoving their way to the exits, Wizardmon was pulled along by Candlemon. The Rookie, following his companions, broke away from the crowd and scurried down a narrow corridor. Pumpkinmon had taken the lead again, turning sharp corners, scaling stairways, and sniffing out hidden doors with practiced precision. He brought them deep into the foundations of the castle where the air was frigid and stale. They stopped when they arrived at a set of iron doors. 

Wizardmon had an uneasy feeling about the place. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the padlocks, or the snarling demonic engravings leering down at him, but somehow he got the idea they weren't welcome in this part of the castle. 

The others weren't bothered though. Pumpkinmon approached the doors and examined them.

"Looks like Myotismon's been beefing up the security. Could swear there were only two padlocks last time." He tapped his chin, looking over the padlocks carefully. "This could be a problem..."

"Hang on. Look." Gotsumon pointed to the doors. "They're all unlocked already."

Pumpkinmon gave it a second look. Sure enough, each of the four padlocks, though formidable, had already been unlatched. The rag doll giggled. 

"Hah! Some security! I'll bet the idiot who came here last forgot to lock the doors." 

Wizardmon frowned. 

"There might still be someone in there." He said. 

The three tricksters traded uncertain glances. Clearly, the idea must not have crossed their minds. 

"Nah." Gotsumon shrugged. "It's too early. Myotismon doesn't take his supper till past midnight." 

Wizardmon was a little thrown by that. 

"Gotsumon," he said, "what exactly is behind those doors?" 

"A treasure trove." Gotsumon was starry eyed. 

Candlemon stifled a laugh. "He means to say that this is a wine cellar. Though it really is a treasure trove. This is where Myotismon keeps all his finest specimens, and he happens to have very expensive taste." 

"Don't tell me you're planning to steal some?" 

"Why else would we be here?" Said Pumpkinmon. "We can't let that blood-sucker hog all the booze! And it's not like we've ever been caught before." 

"You've done this before?"

"Yeah loads of times. It's like I said, DemiDevimon gets the heat for just about everything around here. Now c'mon and help me push this door open." 

"I don't think that's a good idea..."

But Pumpkinmon wasn't listening. He set his shoulder against the door and leaned his full weight onto it. The metal budged slightly, but seemed otherwise unmovable. His companions joined him and threw themselves at the door with all their might. 

"Come on, Wiz!" Said Candlemon, "You gonna pitch in or what?" 

Reluctantly, Wizardmon joined them. He placed both hands against the door and pushed. Finally it relented with a screech of iron against the stonework floor. Candlemon cheered and clapped him on the back with a "right on" and "well done, friend", though Wizardmon was sure his own contribution hadn't amounted to much. 

Pumpkinmon was the first to enter. Only when he'd decided that the coast was clear did he call for the rest of them to follow. Wizardmon hadn't any intention of following, and he'd said as much to Candlemon when asked why he hadn't moved. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just not comfortable with this." 

"Aw, come on!" Candlemon grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door. "Don't be such a Rookie!" 

A round of polite protests went ignored as Wizardmon stumbled along, struggling half-heartedly against the surprisingly firm grip of Candlemon. 

The wine cellar was generously stocked. Tall wooden racks were set up against the walls, spanning nearly the full height from floor to ceiling. A further twelve, equally sized, stood in rows down the center of the room. Wizardmon supposed they'd been commissioned and built specifically to furnish this room. Upon the racks, cradled delicately in their slots, were the fine wines Gotsumon so dearly coveted. They were of every color, from champagne gold to cherry black, and arranged accordingly. 

"Glorious, isn't it?" Said Gotsumon, tearful at the sight. 

He approached the nearest rack and gazed adoringly at it's specimens. Hesitant, he reached out to stroke a bottle of claret, but could not bring himself to touch it. 

"Ah, I can't do it!" He whined, "These hands are for smashing! Pumpkinmon, you've got soft paws, you pick." 

"Okay, uh...this one?" 

"What! No, no! White wine is for amateurs!"

"How about this?"

"What did I just say!"

As the pair quarreled over their choice of beverage, Wizardmon surveyed the room. He could see no interlopers, but it was dark一they had only Candlemon's flame to see with一and there were many places for a smaller Digimon to hide. Moving farther back into the cellar, Wizardmon was amazed to discover just how large it was. The low corbeled ceiling suggested a squat and shallow space, but in fact it went on for several yards. Where the wine racks ended, a small trove of crates and barrels began. 

"Wat'cha lookin' for?" 

Wizardmon started, then looked over his shoulder to see Candlemon had followed him. 

"Ah, sorry. You startled me. I'm just having a look around. Not after anything in particular一" 

He paused when a flicker of movement caught his eye. It may have been a trick of the light, but Wizardmon was certain he'd just seen a shape scuttling in the shadows. He squinted, trying to peer through the darkness, but nothing yielded. 

"Something wrong?" Said Candlemon. 

"I thought something moved just now." 

"What, like a rat?" 

"Too big." 

Wizardmon shook his head. Perhaps he'd imagined it. His mind had a habit of playing tricks on him. 

He was nearly content with this assumption when his companion shrieked. 

“Look!” 

Candlemon was pointing at something behind him. Wizardmon turned just in time to glimpse a dark shape flitting away. Candlemon hurried after it and was quickly out of sight. Cursing, Wizardmon followed with his guard up and his staff at the ready. 

A commotion ensued. Candlemon was shouting and a very unpleasant, very familiar voice was shouting back. 

“Get your greasy paws off me, ya’ freak!” 

What Wizardmon found once he’d caught up was Candlemon struggling to keep an airborne DemiDevimon from flying off. He’d snared one of the bat creature’s legs, and despite a considerable size advantage, was visibly straining to maintain the grip. 

“No way!” Said Candlemon, “You’ll go rat on us and have us all fed to Dokugumon!” 

DemiDevimon snarled. His wings flapped madly like flags in a hurricane. 

“I said let go! Let go right now or you’ll regret it!” 

“Wiz!” Candlemon looked to mage imploringly, “Grab ‘em! Hurry!” 

It was too late. Candlemon lost his grip a moment later and DemiDevimon, propelled by his frantic momentum, went flying. He crashed into the wooden shelf behind him, rattling a few dozen bottles of wine. Then came a soft creaking. The shelf pitched backward; first a subtle tilt, and then the whole of it went crashing down. Then the one behind it went. And then the next. And the next. Until none were left standing. Decades, perhaps centuries, of precious wine was now seeping through cracks in the floor, lost forever. 

A hush fell over the room. Across the cellar, beyond the deadfall of shelves, Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon looked upon the carnage with unfathomable anguish. Clutched protectively in the Ultimate’s mitts was a single surviving bottle of pinot noir.

“Oh that’s just fantastic!” 

DemiDevimon had surfaced from the rubble and taken back to the air. 

“You guys wait till Lord Myotismon sees this! Forget Dokugumon, he’ll eat you himself!” 

Cackling, the Rookie fled for the door, but he would not make it there. Before he could stop himself, Wizardmon had flung out his arm and loosed a thunderball. The orb struck DemiDevimon between the wings and he dropped like a stone. 

“Nice one, Wiz!” Candlemon gave him a congratulatory punch in the arm. 

Meanwhile, Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon had crowded beside DemiDevimon to examine him. After a few rounds of being nudged, prodded, and kicked, it was the consensus that DemiDevimon, though alive, was very much unconscious. He twitched and groaned, but otherwise did not stir. 

“What should we do with him?” Asked Candlemon. 

Pumpkinmon thought it over. Then he grinned. 

“Heh! We don’t have to do anything. We’ll split, and we’ll lock the door. Someone’ll find him down here eventually.”

Wizardmon looked down at the unconscious Digimon and felt a slight pang of guilt.

“Isn't that a bit cruel?” He said, “He could starve down here.” 

“Not a chance.” Said Gotsumon. “Myotismon can’t go an hour without one of his little lap dogs, let alone a whole day. He’ll have somebody looking for him by the end of the night. Then this whole mess will be DemiDevimon’s problem. It was his fault anyway! I mean what was he doing skulking around down here? I’ll bet anything he was up to no good.” 

“Probably trying to make off with a few bottles himself.” Added Pumpkinmon. 

Wizardmon pulled a grimace. The thought of leaving anyone to the wrath of an aggrieved wine connoisseur was unsettling. Nevermind the loss of alcohol, what about the financial implications! A collection like this one would have cost upwards of unfathomable. 

“It just doesn't seem very fair.” He said. 

“Forget fair!” Said Gotsumon. “This is life and death! DemiDevimon might get a few smacks on the wrist but the likes of us would get killed. I mean, you heard what the trashball said.”

“But一”

“Trust us, buddy.” Candlemon laid a hand on Wizardmon’s shoulder. “We know what's what around here.” 

Resigned, the mage sighed, shoulders dropping. 

“Alright...but first there’s something I have to do,” 

Wizardmon knelt beside DemiDevimon and placed a hand over his eyes. Then his hand began to glow. 

“What are you doing?” Asked Pumpkinmon. 

“It's a spell. When he wakes, he should have no recollection that we were here一”

“That's amazing! You're a genius!"

Pumpkinmon was unable to see the anxious half-smile Wizardmon gave him. Had he not been interrupted, he might have gone on to explain that the spell’s power was temporary. It would only last for a week at most. If they were lucky, 

The light faded. Wizardmon withdrew his hand and stood again. Looking down, he saw yellow eyes fluttered open, unfocused, then closed again.

“We should hurry.” Said Wizardmon, “He might wake soon.” 

The trio nodded and fled, absconding with their misbegotten prize.

Wizardmon followed at first, then paused. He took one last glance at DemiDevimon, muttering garbled nonsense in his half-conscious daze. When he heard Candlemon shouting for him, he turned his back, clutching his staff, and hurried into the darkened hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

The trio hid themselves away in a secret nook of the castle to enjoy their spoils. Wizardmon would have no part in the revelry. Feigning exhaustion, he gave an exaggerated yawn and bid them good night. He'd only made it a few steps before Candlemon stopped him. 

"Hang on," said the Rookie, coming up beside him, "do you know where to go?" 

It hadn't occurred to Wizardmon until then. 

"No, I suppose I don't." He said, feeling somewhat foolish. 

 

"You're a newcomer," said Candlemon, "so you'll be in the West Barrack with me and the other Rookies."

"Where can I find it?" 

"I'll show you."

"Thank you, that's kind. But I wouldn't want to tear you away from the festivities." 

 

"Hey, it's okay. I mean, it'd be pretty indecent of me to let you go off alone. This place can be tricky to navigate at first. It's practically a maze. I still get lost myself, heh! But don't worry! I know the way from here I promise." 

Pumpkinmon called over to them. 

"Just make sure you come back before Gotsumon polishes off the wine. I'll do my best to save you some but you know how he gets." 

"Hey!"

"What, it's true!" 

Candlemon snickered and left them to their bickering.

 

The barracks, though large, were exceptionally crowded. Rows of bunks, stacked three beds high, were pressed closely together with scarcely a foot and a half of space between them. The only exceptions were the two center aisles that ran perpendicular to one another, divvying up the rows into four quadrants. 

 

“It's first come first serve,” said Candlemon, “so just take whichever bunk you want. I’d recommend top bunk though. Wouldn't want to wake up squished under a smelly Goblimon. Those guys sleep like the dead and I'm pretty sure they don’t bathe.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

They exchanged their well wishes and Candlemon went off to have his share of wine. Once alone, Wizardmon found himself a bunk at the far left corner of the room. Far too restless for sleep, he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling while his thoughts drifted. 

 

Inevitably, he thought of Gatomon. He hadn't seen her since they’d arrived at the castle that morning. She hadn't been in the mess hall at dinner, though he assumed, as an officer, that Gatomon would be allowed to dine alone. She may also一and he hoped this was the case一have the privilege of private lodgings. He didn’t imagine she’d care to sleep in a squalid place like this. With that keen nose of hers, the odor alone would be insufferable. 

 

Then there was the noise. Somewhere across the room, Wizardmon could hear the rumbling snores of a sleeping Digimon. Another of his fellows was mumbling and fidgeting, probably dreaming, and the bedsprings groaned miserably with each movement he made. Add to this a chorus of sniffs, snorts, and other bodily sounds, and sleep became impossible. 

 

In lieu of a pillow, each bunk had a burlap sack stuffed with straw. Wizardmon took his and pressed it over his head to muffle the noise. It was only somewhat successful. Should the need arise, he supposed he could charm himself to sleep, but that seemed a terrible waste of magic. It was only after what felt like hours of listening to those awful bedsprings that he finally relented. 

 

At last he slept, but only for a short time before being rudely awakened by a hard nudge to the shoulder. 

 

“Oy. Oy, you!” 

 

Wizardmon looked with bleary eyes upon the darkened shape beside him. It took a moment, but he finally recognized it as one of the Mushroomon.

 

“I’m taking this bunk.” Said the Mushroomon.

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“I said I’m taking this bunk. It's mine now. Scram.” 

 

Leaving no room for protest, the Mushroomon took Wizardmon by his collar and yanked him from the bed. Wizardmon thudded belly up onto the stone floor, thoroughly winded. A moment later his staff followed and clattered onto the stones beside him.

 

There were no other beds to be had that night. Those that weren't inhabited by other Digimon were either broken, soiled, or missing altogether. Wizardmon did the only thing he could and found the driest part of the floor to sleep on.

 

The wake up call came an hour before sunrise. A Digimon stood at the front of the room, clanging an old rusted bell and hollering for all to rise. Among the chorus of moans and bellyaching, Wizardmon listened for a familiar voice. He heard none, and so when the groggy crowd began to shuffle forth, he followed them and hoped for the best. 

They led him into the mess hall where morning rations were being doled out. Wizardmon got to the back of the line and was immediately cut in front of by a host of Gazimon. He didn't bother to speak up. Something told him it wasn't worth a punch in the face. Not this early in the morning. 

What passed for rations today was a whitish slop and a half一pint of some warm and frothy liquid It smelled vaguely alcoholic. He hadn't intended to find a table, assuming he'd only be evicted by someone bigger and meaner, but his plans were changed when Candlemon appeared. The Rookie called out to him from across the room and began to work his way through the crowd. Following close behind him was Gotsumon. 

"Heya, buddy!" Candlemon was terribly vibrant for such an early hour. "You sleep okay?" 

"No complaints." Wizardmon mustered what enthusiasm he could to support that claim. 

"I know it's not exactly first class accommodations, but you'll get used to it. Anyway, it's better than sleeping out in the cold, right?" 

Wizardmon disagreed, but nodded anyhow. 

It was not long before Pumpkinmon joined them, sporting his breakfast tray and an ear to ear grin. 

"Mornin, Gents!"

"What's got you so happy?" Said Gotsumon. 

"Oh, it's nothing." Pumpkinmon turned his face away and just barely suppressed a giggle. His grin had gone painfully wide. 

"Nothing my rock hard butt!" cried Gotsumon. "You look like you just got the promotion of the century!" 

"No, no, it's nothing like that! It's just一" Pumpkinmon was shaking with glee. "Well you see..." 

"Out with it!" cried Candlemon. 

Pumpkinmon finally cracked. Though he tried to stifle it with a hand over his mouth, his joy could not be contained. 

"I had a dream about her last night!" He announced, practically squealing. 

Candlemon and Gotsumon groaned in unison. 

"Oh man not this again,” said the golem. "This always happens when you drink! It plays crazy tricks with your head!" 

"No, it was lovely!" Said Pumpkinmon. His gaze was starting to drift. He was lost in his fantasy. 

"See, in the dream, I was Myotismon, and一" 

"Whatever, just save it for later, okay?" Candlemon interrupted before the story could go any further. "I don't wanna lose my appetite." 

They found a table at the back of the mess hall. Pumpkinmon and his Rookie companions scarfed down their portions in a matter of minutes, whereas Wizardmon could barely find the stomach to pick at his. He took the smallest sip of his beverage to test it, and concluding that it was mostly inoffensive to his tastebuds, he allowed himself to drink. It was warm, which he appreciated, and tasted strongly of yeast. If he were to venture a guess, Wizardmon assumed it must have been a sort of watered down ale. The bowl of slop he refused to touch, happily passing it off to Gotsumon when asked if he would finish it. 

Breakfast was ended when one of the kitchen staff, a Vegiemon, stepped out and began banging two pans above his head. 

"Alright! Alright!" He cried. "Mealtime is over! All of you get out and get to work!"

Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon pulled long faces as they went their separate ways. According to Candlemon, it had been long established that the two were never to be stationed together. There had been one too many incidents involving two jolly idiots and some horribly misappropriated cleaning supplies. 

Down in the dungeons, Wizardmon and Candlemon resumed their work from the evening prior. For most of the day they were left to their own devices. A Bakemon came and went, doling food scraps to the prisoners and scolding Candlemon for singing on the job. Once he was gone, though, the pair was alone again. 

Dungeon duty, as Candlemon explained, was only for the lowest of the low; newcomers, and the like. It was a rite of passage for any new recruit, and as the tide of new soldiers had stemmed, it was only the two of them. 

"Have they stopped recruiting?" Asked Wizardmon. 

"Not quite" said Candlemon. "From what I hear, it's our competition poaching all the fresh talent."

"Competition?"

"The other Digimon Lords." 

"Like Devimon?"

"Yeah. He's been a thorn in Lord Myotismon's side for years! And if the rumors are true, he's been sending scouts to The Continent. Tryin'a get his claws into our territory."

"And what about Etemon?"

"Lord Etemon is our ally. He's the reason we've got all these Gazimon running around acting like they own the place. See, they follow Etemon, but he answers to Lord Myotismon. They oughta get that through their stupid heads already!" 

 

The work hours came and went much the same as they had the day before. They scrubbed the filth, mopped the slime, chipped at the mold, and all the while Candlemon ran his mouth with reckless abandon. He gossiped here, complained a little there, and when he'd run out of things to say he started to sing. Wizardmon liked that part best. He may not have had the voice of an Angemon, but his energy was infectious. 

At dinner, Gotsumon went on a diatribe regarding certain "rude and uncivilized" members of their community. Namely the Gazimon, whom he accused of parading through the castle with their smug and very unfounded sense of superiority. He'd been on construction duty, making repairs to one if the outer walls when a gaggle of them saw fit to undermine his progress. 

"And I'm the one taking the heat for it!" cried Gotsumon, "That piece of scum DemiDevimon cut my rations to a half portion for the rest of the week!" 

Candlemon looked nervous.

"You don't think he knows it was us in the cellar last night, do you? What if the spell didn't work!”

 

“I doubt it”, Said Gotsumon. “And if he does, he sure didn't say anything about it一一certainly not to Myotismon or the four of us would be spider food right now.”

 

“I wouldn't worry about it,” said Pumpkinmon, “DemiDevimon’s always had it out for us. Ever since the first day we got here. He'll take any chance he can get to mess with us."

"I'll bet he was just sore because Myotismon gave him a thrashing", said Gotsumon with a snort, "and a good one, too. Looked like he had a broken wing." 

Wizardmon looked up from his dinner, but refrained from commenting. Lips pursed, he set down a barely nibbled slab of bread, having lost his his appetite. 

Standing, he said, "I think I'll turn in early today." 

"You feeling ok?" Asked Candlemon. 

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit tired." 

“Want me to come with you?”

 

“No, it's alright. I should be just fine on my own.”

 

XXXX

 

It was after his fifth dead end that Wizardmon began suspecting he might be lost. The first he’d written off as a wrong turn. It was just so for the second. But by dead end number three he’d begun to doubt himself. By number four he’d grown anxious. Backtracking proved impossible as doors would vanish the moment his eyes left them. Whole walls would erect themselves from thin air while his back was turned. True, it was dark, but there were only so many times could blame a trick of the light. 

 

There was something unnatural afoot.

His path grew darker and darker as Wizardmon proceeded. Inevitably, he had to rely on magic to light the way. He formed a small glowing orb in his hand. It was fairly dim, as he could not spare the energy for something brighter, but nevertheless it would do the trick. 

 

Now that he could properly see it, Wizardmon was aware he’d come to an unfamiliar part of the castle. It appeared to be a recent addition; likely built within the last few decades. Whereas the rest of the castle was cracked and crumbling, the walls here were in sturdy condition, made of clean cut and evenly sized stones.

The corridor lead him to an octagonal chamber. It was a nexus point, branching off into four directions. That gave him three options: right, left, and forward. Wizardmon struggled to decide. Whichever way he went, it was more than likely he'd have no means to turn back. A growing part of him wondered if the choice mattered at all. There was clearly magic in play, the unfriendly kind, and whoever had cast the spell was skilled enough that even the mage could not see through it's trickery. 

Grappling with indecision, Wizardmon leaned onto his staff and closed his eyes. Perhaps, without sight to deceive him, he could sense the way. 

From the blackness of the left hand corridor came a sound. Faint was the delicate clink of metal. It almost sounded like tiny bells jingling, but there was something off about it. It was blunt, and there was no music in it. 

Still it was something.

It occurred to him that this might be another illusion. If he followed that sound, he might only find himself lured deeper into the darkest reaches of the castle. But what did it matter? He was hopelessly lost as it was, and why would the castle bother to lead him down false corridors? 

Boobytraps, perhaps? Wizardmon imagined the stones falling away beneath him; a guillotine blade descending from above. 

He would just have to chance it. 

The sound led him down the left hand corridor. Wizardmon allowed his light to dim further, anticipating that whatever he found, supposing it was a Digimon, may not necessarily be friendly. As he drew closer to the source, Wizardmon felt a prickle of apprehension at the back of his neck. He had finally recognized that sound for what it was. It was not the tinkling of bells, but the rattling of chains. 

Wizardmon paused, rethinking his decision. He knew next to nothing about this castle or its secrets, but it was generally understood that chains were not a friendly omen. He considered turning back until something else caught his attention. It was a voice this time, soft spoken and barely audible over the rippling rattle of those chains. Still, he could hear that lilting purr, and he recognized it at once.

Relief washed over him. Forgetting his trepidation, Wizardmon broke into a sprint. Rounding a corner, he caught sight of a pale shape amongst the shadows. 

 

"Gatomon!’’

 

Ears twitching, the feline turned. Her eyes went wide when she saw him.

 

‘’Gatomon, I'm glad I found you." 

 

Wizardmon slowed to a jog as approached her. She was not alone. Beside her was a hooded creature sporting a was a scythe with a golden blade. Dangling from the end of its handle was a long silvery chain. 

"Commander Gatomon", said the hooded creature. His voice was wispy, almost a sigh. "Are you familiar with this creature?" 

Gatomon frowned, her face hardening into a glare. 

"If I’m not mistaken, he's one of DemiDevimon's underlings, and a greenhorn at that. You there!" She jabbed a claw in his direction, "This part of the castle is restricted! Who do you think you are snooping around here!" 

Wizardmon blinked.

"I asked you a question!" Gatomon stomped over to mage and boxed his ear hard enough to knock his hat to the floor. 

 

Wizardmon steadied himself with his staff before he could lose his footing. Hand on his head, he looked to Gatomon, dumbfounded. 

 

‘’Well?’’ The feline tapped her foot. Her tail twitched impatiently. 

 

‘’I…’’ 

 

Wizardmon looked between the feline and her hooded companion. The spectre was watching him closely, scythe propped up on it’s shoulder. He shivered and turned his eyes back to Gatomon again. She was sneering at him, paws on her hips. 

 

‘’Forgive me, I was headed to the barracks and I must have taken a wrong turn. I’m not familiar with the castle.’’ 

 

The spectre chuckled. 

 

‘’Lost your way, have you?’’

Wizardmon nodded meekly. 

 

“Fool.” Gatomon huffed, ears drawn flat against her head. “Not that I expect any better from one of DemiDevimon’s grunts. Go on without me, Phantomon.” She glanced back at the specter. “I’ll escort this hopeless idiot to his barracks and join you as soon as I can.” 

 

“As you wish, Commander”, said Phantomon. “I shall inform Lord Myotismon of your delay.” 

 

“Much obliged.”

 

Gatomon turned her attention back to the have the mage and gave him a shove, ordering him to move. The mage stumbled, caught himself, and did as told. Gatomon was soon in the lead, marching on without a word. 

 

The trek was painfully silent. Wizardmon burned with questions, but didn't dare to ask, not with Gatomon in such a mood. Her arms hung stiffly as she walked, fists swinging like pendulums. Wizardmon kept his distance, fearing they might strike him. 

 

As they neared the older parts of the castle, the shadows began to lift. Moonlight spilled through the open windows, torches flickered on the walls. 

 

‘’Gatomon”, Wizardmon had finally found the voice to speak, “I know it's not my place to ask but I feel一”

“Quiet!" The cat hissed. “You’ll speak when you’re spoken to. And it’s Commander Gatomon!”

She said nothing more, marching on in silence. Wizardmon held his tongue and followed. 

 

They did not stop when they reached the barracks. Wizardmon gave a murmur of protest, only to be shot down again.

 

“Just shut up and keep walking."

Gatomon led him out into the courtyard where they'd first arrived, and just as it had been that morning, it was deserted. 

 

"Over here." 

Gatomon made a beeline to the far side of the courtyard where a section of the exterior wall had been overtaken by weeds. She stopped here, parting the green with her claws to uncover a fissure in stones beneath. It was narrow, no wider than a dinner plate, but Gatomon slipped through it easily. 

It was not so easy for Wizardmon. Though slender, he was easily a head and a half taller than Gatomon, and the crack was significantly narrower towards the top. He took off his hat and crouched down, only to get his hair caught up in the weeds. 

As he was busy untangling himself, Wizardmon heard a snarl from behind the stones.

"What's taking you? Get in here!"

Gatomon seized him by the ankle; her grip was frighteningly strong. With a firm yank, Wizardmon was through the gap. 

The passage was mercifully short. After only a few inches, it widened into a little alcove, easily big enough for the mage to stand in. The Wizardmon landed with a quiet thud and the crunch of dead leaves. It was dark within, his eyes took a few moments to adjust. Once he was able, he saw that he'd landed on bed of weeds. 

Gatomon seated herself, then gestured for him to do the same. Wizardmon mimicked her posture and sat cross legged, hands folded in his lap. 

The cat spoke. 

"I gather you want an explanation for what happened back there." It was not a question. "But before that happens, I need you to explain a few things to me. First, what were you doing in that part of the castle?"

"It's as I told you," said Wizardmon, "I lost my way. One of the others offered to lead the way for me, but I turned them down. That was a mistake on my part." 

"And what possessed you to do that? You thought you could learn the layout of this castle in only one day?" 

"No. I was only trying to get from the mess hall to the barracks. It didn't seem all that complicated." 

The cat's face twisted into a scowl. She grunted. "I take it he didn't tell you then." 

"He who? Tell me what?" 

"About the spell. Lord Myotismon put a spell on this castle to foil intruders. Anyone who hasn't lived here for a certain time is considered a stranger, and strangers cannot navigate the castle on their own. DemiDevimon was supposed to tell you about it when I put you in his charge."

"He didn't tell me much of anything, to be honest."

Gatomon snarled, rolling her eyes. "Of course he didn't. That would've taken far too much effort." She paused, touching a paw to her face. "So can I assume that you know nothing about this place and its rules?" 

"Not nothing. I was fortunate enough to meet a friendly Candlemon. He's a new recruit as well, but his friends have been enlisted for quite some time. They've been very helpful. "

"Well isn't that sweet." Gatomon huffed bitterly, shoulders hunched as she looked off to the side. "How very wonderful for you." 

Wizardmon frowned, realizing he'd struck a nerve.

"Yes...I got lucky in that respect. But I still have quite a bit to learn. Candlemon and his friends are well meaning but..." He struggled to put it delicately, "...well, they're a bit immature. I expect that of two Rookies, but Pumpkinmon is an Ultimate and一"

"Pumpkinmon! You've been fraternizing with that brainless hooligan?" Gatomon bristled, her tail thumped against the ground. 

"Yes”, said Wizardmon. “Why?" 

Gatomon made a guttural sound halfway between awe and disgust. "Honestly, Wizardmon, I leave you alone for one day and you fall in with the most banal idiots imaginable. Do you have no sense of self preservation whatsoever? You can't hunt. You can't fight. And now it's clear you're a horrible judge of character. How in the world did you survive on your own!"

Wizardmon flinched. She was beginning to raise her tone, claws flexing with the urge to scratch. He worried she might strike him again.

But just as her temper began to flare, it subsided again. Gatomon closed her eyes and let out one long, labored sigh. 

"Listen." Her tone had evened. She was looking at him again. "I don't know what things were like where you come from, but in this place you have to keep your wits about you at all times. Don't trust anyone, and certainly don't make friends. However sweet and cuddly those idiots seem now, I guarantee they'll disappear the moment it's no longer convenient to be at your side. There's no such thing as friendship or loyalty in a place like this. At best you'll make a few fair weather allies, but don't mistake them for friends. Pumpkinmon and his ilk might be too stupid for scheming and politics, but it doesn't make them any less untrustworthy. They're just as self一serving and spineless as the rest."

"It seems a bit unfair to generalize”, said the mage, somewhat tersely. “And as far as I'm aware, you've only ever spoken to Pumpkinmon once. And have you even met Candlemon or Gotsumon?" 

"I don't have to,” the cat drawled, arms folded across her chest. “I've been here long enough to know what sort of Digimon end up here. Those who aren't morally bankrupt are just too stupid to know right from wrong." 

"So which one are you?" Asked Wizardmon. 

Gatomon glared. She didn't answer.

"And what about me? Am I one of the idiots?" 

"You're an optimist”, said Gatomon, her tone souring on that last word. “And if you're smart, which I know you are, you won't be one for very long. Trust me on that. Because believe it or not, I was a lot like you when I first got here. I thought I could make friends. I thought I could depend on my fellow Digimon to be there when I needed them. I was wrong, and I learned my lesson the hard way.” 

"And you're telling me all this so I won't have to?" 

"I'm just telling the truth. That the good ones don't last around here. They change, become like everyone else, and if they don't then they end up dead.” 

 

Gatomon paused, bowing her head slightly. Brows knit, she stared at her claws, then at Wizardmon, and then at her claws again. 

 

“Wizardmon, when I told you that you didn't belong here, I meant it.” Her chin lifted, but still she would not look at him. “You didn't listen. You came here anyway, and if you want to survive, you'll have to play by our rules. Understand?"

"I do." 

 

“No you don’t.”

 

She met his eyes this time, mouth pressed into a stern line. 

 

“You don't understand, and part of that is my fault. So I’ll make it clear now, and listen closely because I won't be repeating myself. You're a newcomer, that puts you at the bottom rung. And since you’re no good in a fight, you’re likely to stay there. So if you want to stay in one piece, you keep your head down and your mouth shut. Especially when dealing with your superiors一一which in your case is just about everybody. That includes me. Never speak to me unless I speak to you first, and especially not in public. You and I aren't equals here. As long as I am in this castle, I am Commander Gatomon. I have no business fraternizing with a nameless grunt."

"And that nameless grunt would be me?" 

"Yes. And you're not infantry, which means you and I have no reason to even be in the same room together, let alone exchanging familiarities. If there's anyone you'd be expected to get familiar with it's DemiDevimon. He’s your direct superior, you got that?” 

"So what you're saying is, you I won't be seeing each other? At all?" 

Gatomon sighed. Her frown deepened. "I told you that before we arrived, that I wouldn't be around to hold your hand and keep you out of trouble. I have my duties to attend to." 

"Yes I know”, said Wizardmon, shoulders drooping, “but I had thought..."

"Thought what?” Gatomon canted her head and she grimaced, almost mockingly. “That we could be friends? Don’t be stupid.”

 

Gatomon stood.

 

“I have to go.”

 

She brushed past him, and slipped back into the courtyard. Wizardmon scrambled to follow. 

 

“Gatomon, wait.”

 

She marched onward. 

 

“I've wasted enough time with you already." 

"Gatomon一"

The feline rounded on him, baring her fangs and hissing through her teeth. Wizardmon stopped short.

 

"It’s Commander Gatomon!” She yowled. “The next time I have to correct you, you'll get more than than a few harsh words. Now keep up if you don't want to get lost again."

Still bristled, Gatomon turned from him and moved swiftly to the portal at the other end of the yard. 

 

They returned to the barracks in silence. As Gatomon departed, Wizardmon bid her a good evening. She made no sign to acknowledge him as disappeared around the first corner. 

Wizardmon did not sleep that night.


	8. Tedium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! School has been eating up all my time.
> 
> As always, reviews and comments are much appreciated <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Days dragged by with unbearable monotony. Wake up, work, scarf down a wretched meal. Rinse, recycle, repeat. Time spent with his companions made the experience easier. They were hardly intellectuals and he didn't care much for their sense of humor, but their company was appreciated all the same. Yet, any comfort they gave was undone by the barest glimpses of Gatomon. He would catch sight of her, briefly, marching here and there with her head high and her eyes forward, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of Phantomon or others. She never acknowledged him, even when they passed one another in an otherwise empty corridor. In time Wizardmon learned to do the same. 

The work week, as he soon learned, came and went in eight day cycles, and it was on the final day that castle’s inhabitants were permitted to rest. For the Rookies, cooks, and other non-combatants--the “lowly ones”, as they were often called--this meant a half day of work every eighth day. For soldiers, it was a full day to do as they pleased. Wizardmon also learned that newcomers were not entitled to either. The only downtime for a new recruit was at breakfast and supper.

Candlemon had only recently attained his eight day privileges. He had begun his service in the castle just over two months ago.

“It’ll go by fast,” the Rookie said one morning.

They were still working in the Dungeons. Currently, Wizardmon was on his knees, scrubbing a foul smelling stain from the floor. 

“I know it kinda sucks down here,” Candlemon strained to get at a patch of grime on the wall above him, “but just stick it out and you’ll be working out in the fresh air before you know it.” 

Unable to reach, Candlemon gave up and moved onto something easier. 

“Personally,” he continued, “I hope they put me on the wall. It's a lot of heavy lifting from what I hear but at least it's outside. And I’ll get to work with Gotsumon!”

“Wall?”

“Yeah. I don't know if you’ve had the chance to see it, but there’s a pretty big chunk of the outer wall missing. There was this raid a few weeks back. Some of Devimon’s goons showed up and attacked. We fought them off of course, but the bastards did plenty of damage first. Repairs have been underway ever since.”

“Do these attacks happen often?”

“As far as I know they never used to, but word around the castle says they’ve picked up in recent months. Must mean Devimon’s gettin’ serious about taking the continent.”

“That's worrying.” 

“Meh,” Candlemon shrugged, “I wouldn't worry. Devimon can round up as many jerks as he wants, but he’ll never beat Lord Myotismon.” 

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because everyone says so. I might be new around here, but ask anyone who’s been here long enough and they’ll tell you all about it. The guy can level a whole town without even lifting a finger! Ask Pumpkinmon, he’s seen it.” 

“That sounds...terrifying.”

“Oh, he absolutely is. You do not wanna get on Lord Myotismon’s bad side. Few Digimon have ever done so and lived to tell about it.” 

“Candlemon--”

“Candy!”

“Candy, would you mind if I asked something of a personal question?” 

“Ask away!” 

“If Lord Myotismon is such a terror, then why would you want to work for him?”

Candlemon set down his wash rag and mused for a few moments. 

“Well to be honest, I just didn't have much else going for me. Before I met Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon, I was pretty much on my own. I did odd jobs to make ends meet, but that's not much of a life, you know? But here in the castle, I don't have to worry about food, or where I’m gonna sleep at night. I have friends here! Lord Myotismon might be scary, but look at everything he’s given us. A lot of the Digimon you meet here didn't have much before they enlisted. I mean, isn't that why you joined?”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

 

When his shift had ended, Candlemon elected to spend the rest of the day in the dungeons with Wizardmon.

“You don't have to,” said the mage. “I’ll be just fine on my own.” 

“Nah!” Candlemon made himself comfortable, relaxing against the wall with his arms behind his head. “Wouldn’t be all that decent of me to leave ya’ down here alone. And besides, I already told Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon to meet us here when their shifts were over.” 

“It's not that I don't appreciate it, but wouldn't you rather spend your day off doing something more entertaining?”

“Hey, there’s plenty to do down here! Whoever said a dungeon had to be all doom and gloom? I mean we've practically got this whole place to ourselves. Think of the possibilities!”

Wizardmon did think about it, and the only things that came to mind were mischief and shenanigans. 

When the pair arrived they did not come empty handed. They had managed to sneak into the kitchens and absconded with a small loot of stolen goodies. It was Pumpkinmon’s insistence that the kitchen staff (“those stingy bastards”) kept all the best rations for themselves, and he was not wrong. The duo had arrived with fruits, cheeses, and even fresh bread. They laid out their bounty on a large cloth and announced that it was time to feast. 

Though his stomach ached, Wizardmon would not touch the food. Candlemon noticed this and encouraged him to join them, but Wizardmon politely turned him down.

“My shift still hasn't ended.”

Candlemon blew a raspberry at this.

“Come on,” he said, “ you’ve done nothing but work since you got here. Live a little!”

Candlemon pried the sponge from his hand and brought Wizardmon to join them, ignoring any protests. He sat the mage down between Gotsumon and himself. The former was half way through devouring an entire loaf of bread and had a second queued up in his lap. Candlemon reached for a clutch of grapes and handed offered them to Wizardmon, who still would not eat.

“What’s up with you?” the Rookie asked. “You can't tell me you're not hungry.”

“It just doesn't seem right is all.” 

In truth this was only half the concern. He was far more worried that the food might have been jinxed to spoil if it were ever stolen. Though it looked and smelled perfectly edible, one could never be too sure. 

“Bah!” cried Pumpkinmon. “Don't be such a goodie-goodie!”

Gatomon had called him the exact same thing.

“You're new here,” Gotsumon hadn't quite finished chewing yet, “so I get that you don't really grasp our way of life, but take it from us, you’ve gotta steal all you can get around here.” He swallowed. “Everybody does it. It's practically encouraged! Why do you think they feed us that garbage? They're practically commanding us to steal!”

Wizardmon didn't buy it, but he opted not to rock the boat any further. Reaching for the same clutch of grapes he’d been offered before, he plucked one from its stem and gingerly slipped it past his cowl. It was, without exaggeration, the most delicious thing he had tasted in weeks. Granted the bar had been significantly low. 

Caution overridden by hunger, he allowed himself to eat another grape, and then another. 

 

The trio had done enough tomfoolery by the end of the day to work up a substantial appetite. Most of it had involved prodding at the dungeon’s beleaguered prisoners and playing pranks on the unwitting Bakemon who turned up for their rounds. As for Wizardmon, he kept to his work. He was invited time and again to take part in their horseplay, and time and again he politely turned them down. Twice Gotsumon accused him of being a spoilsport, but otherwise the three left him to do his duties in peace. 

At dinner, Pumpkinmon had a proposal for his companions. 

“I've been thinking,” he said, “and I have the perfect idea for what we’ll do on Tribute Day.” 

“I thought we were going to sing?” said Gotsumon. "Like last year." 

“Bah! We've been doing that same old song and dance for years. This time we’re gonna step up our game, do something that that really blows’em out of the water!”

"But there's four of us now. We finally have enough to make a quartet!" 

“What're you guys talking about?" asked Candlemon.

Pumpkinmon grinned. "Only the best day of the year!”

"It's like an anniversary," said Gotsumon. "Once a year Lord Myotismon holds a feast for the whole army. I think it's a morale thing."

"But that's not the best part!" said Pumpkinmon. "Everybody gets a chance to present their tribute to Lord Myotismon, and whoever does the best job gets a promotion! We've never won before, but I've got a good feeling about this year!" 

 

“A promotion!” Candlemon quite literally glowed with excitement, his   
flame flickering brighter. “Did you hear that, Wiz! Wiz?”

Wizardmon hadn’t been listening, he was fixated on something at the far side of the mess hall. It was a small commotion, several of the rookies were crowded around something, practically shoulder to shoulder. Above the raucous roar of their laughter, Wizardmon could hear a cry for mercy. 

"Come on, fellas! Cut that out! Quit it! You’re gonna break something! AHCK!!"

Wizardmon thought recognized that voice. It sounded like DemiDevimon. 

Standing, Wizardmon excused himself from the table. 

"I'll be back shortly."

Weaving his way through the bustle of the mess hall, Wizardmon approached the crowd. He caught a glimpse of their victim through the gnarled legs of a Roachmon. It was indeed DemiDevimon, being tossed and kicked around like an inflatable ball.

He was screeching at the top of his lungs, "Quit it! Quit it! QUIT IT!" 

Wizardmon tugged on the Roachmon's arm. 

"Excuse me?"

The insect turned its head and glowered at him. "I'm busy! Scram!" he said, then turned turned back to the game. 

Wizardmon was undeterred. He tugged the roach's arm again. "Excuse me, Mister Roachmon?" 

This time, the creature founded on him. "I said scram!" He gave Wizardmon a shove. 

The mage stumbled, regained his footing, and then composed himself. 

"That wasn't very nice," he said, "I only wanted to give you a present." 

"Yeah?" The roach scowled. "Like what?" 

"Like this." 

With a wave of his hand, Wizardmon set loose a thunderball. It hovered toward Roachmon, who looked on in bemusement as it flickered. 

"What is--" 

The orb shattered when it reached him, bursting like a soap bubble into little spurts of light. Roachmon groaned, dumbstruck, his eyes crossing. Then, with a hearty thud, he flopped onto the stones, unconscious. 

The commotion came to an abrupt halt. Roachmon's companions all stopped what they were doing and stared at him, then at the mage.

"Hey!" One of the others, a horrid yellow sludge of a Digimon, jabbed one if it's skinny fingers at him. "What did you do to Roachmon!" 

"I could tell you," said Wizardmon, turning to face them, "or I could show you." He lifted his hands, a newly formed thunderball poised above either palm. 

The sludge looked nervous, lowering his arm. After a few tense moments of silence, the yellow Digimon grunted and turned away.

"Whatever! This was getting boring anyway! Let's get outta' here." 

The crowd dispersed. One of them took Roachmon by the leg and hauled him away. That left DemiDevimon, who had plopped gracelessly into the floor, ruffled and disoriented but otherwise safe. Wizardmon crouched beside him.

"Are you alright?" 

Once he'd come to his senses, DemiDevimon bore his fangs. "I'm fine! Leave me alone!"

He started to hobble away, dragging his left wing awkwardly behind him. It was badly broken, and looked as if it had been for several days.

Wizardmon felt a knot twist in the pit of his stomach as he remembered something Gotsumon had said:

 

Myotismon gave him a thrashing, and a good one, too. Looked like he had a broken wing.

Wizardmon could only assume that this “thrashing” had something to do with the wine cellar incident---for which he and his companions were responsible. 

“DemiDevimon, wait a moment.” 

The Rookie paused only to scream at him, “I told ya’ to leave me alone!” Then he went on hobbling as fast as his little legs could manage. He tried to fly away at one point, but barely made it a foot of the ground before plopping back onto the stones. 

Wizardmon cringed with genuine pity. Whatever the little devil’s reputation, it was a sorry sight to watch him struggle along. Sighing, Wizardmon followed after the creature. Once he’d gotten close enough, he scooped DemiDevimon off the floor and carried him away from the crowded dining area, lest he be trampled. 

The Rookie squirmed in protest, cussing up a storm. Fearing he might be bitten, Wizardmon held him at arm’s length. He carried the little creature out into the hallway and only then did he set him down. 

“I’m sorry about that,” said Wizardmon, “but I didn't want to see you get trampled. Are you alright?”

“No! I'm mortified!” DemiDevimon stamped his foot indignantly, “I might not be much of a Digimon, but I still got my dignity! That was rude! Very, very, rude!” 

“If you’ll permit me to be rude just a bit longer, I wanted to ask about your wing. It looks broken. I may be able to fix it.”

“That’s none of your--” DemiDevimon paused. His eyes went narrow with suspicion. “Whaddaya mean ‘fix it’?”

“I’m a healer. If you’ll allow me, I can fix your wing.”

The frowned and turned away, but otherwise stayed put. He glanced sidelong at Wizardmon, appraising him, then quirked his lips into a crooked grimace. 

“Fine. But make it quick!”

Gently as he could, Wizardmon laid his hand over the wing, just barely touching it. “Hold still, this will only take a moment.” Saying this, his hand began to glow.

It was over in seconds. The glow died down, Wizardmon withdrew his hand, and DemiDevimon hesitantly stretched his wing. 

“Hey!” He flapped both wings and hovered into the air, “Whaddaya know! That's some talent you got there!” 

Standing, Wizardmon thanked him. "I spent many years learning to heal with my magic," he said, "it's not much to make up for my lack of combat skills, but it does come in handy." 

"Yeah, yeah, sure." DemiDevimon fluttered a little closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "But if I could offer a bit of friendly advice, you really ought to keep those powers to yourself." 

"Why?"

"Take it from me, there are a lot'a not so nice Digimon around this place, and that's a rare skill you've got. It'd be a real shame if one if them tried to take advantage of ya."

Wizardmon grimaced somewhat. "I...suppose it would." 

"Good! So we agree!" said DemiDevimon. "Now if ya don't mind, I got places to be!" And without further ado, he was off, flapping down the corridors.

Wizardmon watched him until he finally rounded a corner and disappeared, then slipped back into the mess hall.

Back at the table, the trio had moved on to arguing the comedic merits of pranking through physiological torment versus straight physical battery, with Pumpkinmon championing the former. 

When he caught sight of Wizardmon, Candlemon waved at him. 

"Hey, Wiz! Where'd you run off to?"

"I just had to take care if something." Wizardmon took his seat at the end of the table. "Don't worry about it." 

"Alrighty. Well, now that you're here, maybe you can weigh in on our little discussion. Which of the following scenarios do you find funnier..."

 

 

That night, as he often did, he dreamt of Gatomon. She haunted him, perched at the foot of his bed like an imp; a bright white specter in the darkened room. And as dreams do, she fluxed and faded, sometimes there, sometimes gone. 

When he woke the next morning, Wizardmon had half expected to see her一hoped, even-- but of course she was not there. Sighing, he fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes again, aching for just a few more precious moments of sleep. He shifted, turning into his side, then felt something tickle his cheek. He sat up and opened his eyes again, scanned his pillow, and saw a tiny sliver of white tangled into the fibers. He plucked it, examined it, and determined it to be a strand of hair. 

No, not hair, he thought. Fur.


	9. Chapter 9

With scarcely two months to prepare for Tribute Day, Pumpkinmon had been hard at work making preparations. Their tribute was to be a play一short and sweet, as Pumpkinmon described it, and brimming with what he referred to as “romantic tension”. Whatever that meant, Wizardmon was thankful to have been excluded from the whole affair. 

Unfortunately, that was about to change. 

It was over breakfast one morning that Pumpkinmon broached the idea. 

“Everything’s going pretty smoothly,” he said, and as was his habit, the Ultimate spoke with his mouth full, spewing bits of breakfast onto the table. “But there’s still something missing. It needs an extra umph to spice up the performance.” He paused to swallow, washing it all down with a swig of ale. “And that's where you come in. Well, maybe. It depends.” 

“On?”

Wizardmon was seated across from the Ultimate, slowly chipping away at his own breakfast. Though the food was no better than usual, he had begun to develop a tolerance for it and was finally able to keep down more than a few nibbles. 

“We’ve got the play, and we’ve got the players.” Pumpkinmon nodded to Candlemon and Gotsumon. “But what we don't have is a score. It needs music! So I was wondering if you had any talent for that sort of thing.”

Wizardmon nursed a pint of watered down whiskey as he contemplated his next move. His first instinct was to lie. Though he had some skill with a lute, he wasn't keen on being roped into any sort of spectacle. It was one thing to perform for small crowds in the relative intimacy of a pub or tavern, but the idea of playing to an entire army was daunting. Moreover, if this Tribute Day was a castle wide event, then Gatomon was certain to be there. 

But as always, his good nature got the better of him.

“I'm no professional,” he said, “but I can play a melody or two on the lute.”

Candlemon threw his hands into the air and cheered. “That's fantastic!” Then he paused, his grin faded.“Wait, what's a lute?”

“It's like a fancy whistle”, said Gotsumon.

“That's a flute, blockhead,” said Pumpkinmon, “a lute is a fancy guitar. Right?” He turned to Wizardmon for confirmation.

Wizardmon held back a chuckle. 

“Close enough. Here, I’ll show you.” 

Wizardmon cleared his end of the table and placed his staff upon it. Muttering a few words to himself, he made a sign with his hands, then held them over the table. The staff glowed, unfurling into streams of data. Wizardmon snared then before they could escape, twisting and weaving them into a new form. At first it was oblong, then one end of it began to stretch and grow thin. As the object took its final shape, the swirling data began to settle. The light faded, revealing a small wooden instrument with strings running the length of it. It floated gently into the wizard’s hands and he held it with care. 

 

“This is a lute,” said Wizardmon, holding it up for the others. He expected a quip about fancy guitars or the like, but the three Digimon only stared. “What?” 

“How did you do that?!” said Gotsumon, rising from his seat to get a better look. 

It occurred to Wizardmon that this was the first time his companions had seen him perform magic. He had mentioned his abilities once to Candlemon, but the Rookie had taken him to mean card tricks and parlor games, asking if Wizardmon might demonstrate by pulling a Digidollar from thin air. But this was no trick, nor was it a simple illusion. 

The ability to manipulate data was a rare thing in this part of the Digital World. Denounced as hacking by some, and praised as sorcery by others, it had nevertheless fallen out of common practice as the old ways disappeared into the annals of history. He had met only one other Digimon with this power along his travels, and she had been a withered crone with her wits unraveling一a vestige of ancient times.

From the corner of his eye, Wizardmon could see that a few heads had turned. His display was attracting unwanted attention. He thought back to DemiDevimon’s warning and resolved only to use his magic in private from then on. 

“Oh, it's just an old trick I learned during my travels.” Wizardmon feigned nonchalance. He offered the lute to Gotsumon. “Would you like to try it?”

Gotsumon looked tempted, lifting his hand to reach for the lute, but he stopped himself. “I better not, I might break it. Anyway, I’m no musician.” 

“Let’s have a song!” said Pumpkinmon, to which Candlemon gave his wholehearted assent. 

“Yeah, yeah! Let's have a song!” 

“Maybe another time…”

Wizardmon glanced over his shoulder and saw that the mess was still fairly crowded. No one seemed to be paying attention to him anymore, and he preferred to keep it that way. 

Candlemon began to chant, “Song! Song! Song!一” and his companions joined him. “一Song! Song! Song!”

This went on for a short while longer until Wizardmon finally relented. He strummed a few bars of a melody and then took a bow when the trio applauded. 

“Right, that settles that” said Pumpkinmon. “You’re hired!” 

 

In the weeks that followed, Pumpkinmon dominated any and all downtime their schedules afforded them. As the writer, director, and romantic lead, he had prioritized the success of the play above all else. Rehearsals were grueling, albeit mercifully short given their general lack of freedom as bottom rung grunts. Wizardmon, being only the musical accompaniment, was seldom at the receiving end of Pumpkinmon's wrath should a scene go awry. Candlemon and Gotsumon were not as fortunate. The latter, being both his co-star and "leading lady", suffered the most. For as Pumpkinmon had made so abundantly clear, the success of their play hinged on the romantic subplot. 

Pumpkinmon's reign of terror worsened as the big day drew closer. With only days left to prepare, he had taken to waking the group hours before morning bell to squeeze in extra rehearsal time. The result of this was a fair amount of scolding whenever Candlemon or Gotsumon drifted off and fell asleep mid-monologue. After the sixth or seventh time this happened the two of them were fired. They were then promptly un-fired as Pumpkinmon realized he had no one to replace them. 

On the night before Tribute Day, Pumpkinmon called for their first and only dress rehearsal. He presented their costumes, which he had made himself, with an air of unparalleled pride. They were crude at best; a hodgepodge of whatever scraps could be gleaned from castle storerooms all franken-stitched into a monstrosity of fashion. Pumpkinmon had dubbed each one a masterwork, and Wizardmon hadn't had the heart to disagree. 

Attending the dress rehearsal was a small horde of Bakemon. How Pumpkinmon had convinced them to sacrifice their downtime was a mystery, but it could be assumed bribery was involved. 

Their venue that night was in an underutilized part of the castle: the library. It was a cavernous room with impressively stocked shelves, and there was enough dust from floor to ceiling to suggest that few Digimon had ever set foot in the place. This was pleasant news to Wizardmon. Once he no longer had Pumpkinmon dragging him to rehearsals, he could start spending his downtime in peace and quiet with a good book for company.

The rehearsal went about as well as could be expected. Lines were forgotten, cues were missed, and costumes were mismatched. All things considered, it was a splendid success. The Bakemon certainly thought so, albeit your average Bakemon was not difficult to impress. 

When the rehearsal had ended, and the Bakemon dispersed, Pumpkinmon gathered his companions close for a huddle. 

“Well, that’s it,” he said, looking far more sober than he ever had, “our last rehearsal. If I’m being honest, it wasn't great. Actually, it was terrible. Except for you Wiz, you were perfect. Don’t ever change.” He smiled and clapped Wizardmon on the back. 

Wizardmon forced a chuckle and thanked him.

His smile fading, Pumpkinmon continued. “Gotsumon, you’re just not capturing the sensual womanhood of the role. I think it’s your voice. And Candy一well, I have no idea what went wrong there. So here’s what's gonna happen: Candlemon, congratulations, you’re my new leading lady.” 

Candlemon whooped and threw his arms over his head. 

Gotsumon looked as though his whole world had crumbled. “What about me!” he cried.

“Not to worry, my friend,” Pumpkinmon placed his hand on the golem’s shoulder. “With that commanding voice, and your rugged good looks, you’d make a perfect villain! I don't know why I didn't see it before?”

Gotsumon appeared satisfied with this. “Yeah,” he mused, tapping his chin with one rocky finger, “I am pretty handsome…”

 

At last, the day arrived. For the first time since he’d entered the castle, Wizardmon had gotten a decent four hours of sleep---uninterrupted--- and woke feeling slightly better than usual. The morning bell had been delayed an hour, as was customary for this most festive of occasions. For breakfast, the inhabitants of Castle Myotismon were treated to day old bread, which was only somewhat stale and far more edible than the usual fare. And the whiskey, though no less watered down, had been sweetened and spiced. It was the best meal Wizardmon had enjoyed in almost three months. 

The real festivities would not begin until sundown, when their gracious leader would be up and about to join them. Until then, all but the kitchen staff were free to do as they pleased. Most spent this time hastily putting the final touches on their tributes. Pumpkinmon and his players were no exception. As Candlemon and Gotsumon studied their scripts, Pumpkinmon was busy making final adjustments to the costumes; stitching, hemming, and driving himself mad with frustration. Through all this, Wizardmon sat in a corner and strummed his lute. 

When evening came, everyone gathered in the mess hall. It was spruced up for the occasion. What was normally a drab cavern of stone walls and creaky wooden tables had become like an elegant throne room. The tables, draped in white sheets, had been arranged at either side of the hall, forming one big aisle down the center. Running the length of the aisle was a crimson carpet, hemmed in black and gold. Hanging from the rafters were banners of the same imperial red. Upon each was a symbol: a flash of gold the shape of a bat. Wizardmon had seen it once before, printed on on that black card Gatomon kept tucked away in her glove. 

At the far end of the room, perched on a makeshift, wooden dias, sat a menacing throne. It was all black, from its spidery legs to the bat wing finials spread wide at it’s peak. For now, it stood vacant, perched high like a monstrous observer. The sight of it made Wizardmon shudder. 

The tables were set, and the scent of some pan fried delicacy tantalized the eager crowd. But with no sign of Myotismon, his loyal underlings were left to stare at their empty plates, and wait. 

Wizardmon could care less about the food. He was busy scanning the crowds for a glimpse of Gatomon, but as of yet, there was nothing. He’d seen very little of her in the past few months, and on the rare occasion they crossed paths, the most he could expect from her was a careless glance before she moved along to go about her business. 

He wondered if she ever missed his company.

 

Across the hall, a little blue shape fluttered toward the throne. It was DemiDevimon. He landed on one of its curled arms and cleared his throat. When the ruckus did not settle, he tried again一louder this time. 

Gradually, a hush fell over the room. Satisfied that he had their full attention, DemiDevimon addressed the crowd. 

“Presenting His Most Glorious Majesty, The Patron of Pain, Prince of The Undead, Master of Misery, and future Emperor of the Digital World, Lord Myotismon!” 

Wizardmon expected a fanfare, but there was none. Myotismon entered to deafening silence. Tall, pale, and imperially thin, he strode down the center aisle on long, slender legs. He was dressed as one might expect the head of an army to be, neatly arrayed from head to toe in his crisp blue fatigue. Draped over his broad shoulders was a black cape, red on its underside, the collar of which stood so high it added an extra foot to the ensemble. 

Following closely behind him were his loyal officers, Gatomon and Phantomon, their eyes forward and fixed firmly upon their master. They each carried something with them. Phantomon clutched what looked like a small broom whereas Gatomon held a piece of furniture between her paws. When Myotismon reached the throne, he paused and looked to his underlings. Phantomon promptly dusted the seat of the throne, then retreated with a bow. As Myotismon seated himself, Gatomon placed her own burden before the throne. She, too, then bowed and stepped aside. Draping one leg over the other, Myotismon rested his feet upon it. 

Turning his eyes to the crowd, he gestured with one hand and said, "You may applaud." 

Without pause came a standing ovation. Every last Digimon in the room clapped their paws--or whatever appendage they had-- with furious enthusiasm, yet none of them cheered. 

Lifting his hand, Myotismon brought the applause to an abrupt end, and silence weighed upon them once again. No one in the crowd dared to speak. Some even held their breath. 

Then came that booming baritone that was the voice of their leader. 

"For many years now it has been my honor to have such loyal subjects." There was little enthusiasm in his voice. "And so, as promised, I have had our fine cooks prepare a feast for you tonight." 

"Oh, Lord Myotismon, how very generous of you! Isn't he just so generous?" DemiDevimon made a frantic gesture to the crowd and there was further applause. 

 

As the commotion died down, the kitchen doors opened and out came a procession of DemiMeramon sporting enormous platters of sizzling hot delights. They went from table to table delivering their goods to the impatient crowd, then retreated back to the kitchens and were not seen again. Along with the food came jugs upon jugs of whiskey, full bodied and golden brown. 

While most were busy stuffing their faces, those who had prepared tributes quietly broke away from the masses. Insisting that they would do best to present last, Pumpkinmon led their group off to the sidelines where they could observe the competition. 

Most came bearing gifts, some of them stolen goods from the nearby villages, while others had taken pains to concoct something of their own. A group of Bakemon presented a likeness of their esteemed lord made entirely of chewing gum. It might have been impressive, had the head not fallen off when one of them accidentally nudged it too roughly. 

Other notable entries included a portrait painted with condiments stolen from the kitchen, a tribute by way of interpretive dance, and one horrifying long beat poem, fifty percent of which was comprised of the words ‘’glorious’’, and ‘’moist’’. Myotismon said nothing throughout it all, sitting in stern silence, sipping his wine, shifting an inch here or there, and occasionally crossing, or uncrossing his legs. 

This was not the case for his officers. Gatomon, who stood to the right side of the throne, made no attempt to hide her disgust as each new tribute was presented, whereas Phantomon, hovering to the left, appeared thoroughly amused, stifling a derisive chuckle now and then. 

By the time it was their turn to present, Wizardmon had formed a substantial knot in his stomach. Being that his legs refused to cooperate, Pumpkinmon took the liberty of dragging him on toward certain humiliation. Their makeshift stage was little more than a paper banner painted crudely to resemble the night sky. As the three players gathered behind it to throw on their costumes, Wizardmon languished in full view of Gatomon and her unforgiving scrutiny. Head bowed, clutching his lute for dear life, he cleared his throat and announced their tribute. 

"In gratitude to his most esteemed--" 

"Louder!" cried Pumpkinmon from behind the banner. 

Wizardmon swallowed, took a deep breath, and then started again. "In gratitude to His Most Esteemed Majesty, we four present The Heroic Exploits of Lord Myotismon, A Tribute."

He took a quick bow and retreated upstage to his pedestal, which was really just a box Pumpkinmon set out for him despite his numerous protests toward being featured in plain view. He'd have preferred to slink behind the banner and play his music from there, but the Ultimate would not hear of it. He had insisted Wizardmon receive his due credit for participating. 

 

The play began with an overture. It was a bittersweet melody, one he'd often played to himself on lonely nights. The sound of it calmed him some, and he felt the storm of his frenzied nerves beginning to subside. As he played, the mage dared to lift his head and saw that Gatomon had yet to bear down on him with contempt. At the very worst she looked ambivalent. Wizardmon chose to take this as a compliment. . 

As the overture ended, Pumpkinmon and Candlemon strutted out from behind the banner. They were in full costume; Pumpkinmon had styled himself as a marginal likeness of Myotismon, whereas the Rookie, complete with false ears and a tail, was decked up as a sorry impression of Gatomon. The real Gatomon recoiled in sheer disdain when she saw this. 

With a flutter of his cape, Pumpkinmon took center stage and uttered his first line. "’Tis a fair night, my most faithful Gatomon!"

Candlemon moved to stand beside him. "Why yes, My Lord", he said, voice strained in falsetto, "’tis fair indeed!"

"Ah, but not as fair as you, dear Gatomon." Pumpkinmon boomed with false laughter as his co-star swooned. 

"Oh, Lord Myotismon, you are too kind! And so very handsome!"

Then came more of that false laughter. Wizardmon bowed his head again, shrinking back in humiliation. Whatever calm the music brought him had been thoroughly undone. 

"Lo!" cried Candlemon, pointing stage left, "Who is this? What vile creature approaches!"

Gotsumon kept out from behind the banner. Dressed entirely in black, he sported paper wings and a pair of horns. He growled at the two across from him. 

"’Tis Devimon, that hideous fiend!" Pumpkinmon threw out his arm and stepped in front of Candlemon, "Stand back, Gatomon! I shall dispatch of this dastardly usurper!"

"I think not!" cried Gotsumon, "For you may be strong, and handsome, and clever---but nevertheless, tonight you die!"

What followed was a spastic flail that made it's best attempt at being stage combat. There was a fair amount of grunting and swearing as Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon grappled on the floor while Candlemon stood in the background squealing "oh my!" over and over again. 

The spectacle, however ridiculous, didn't seem to bother Myotismon, likely because he hadn't payed attention to it for more than the first thirty seconds. He spent most of the performance making small talk with Phantomon, picking the lint off of his clothes, and nursing his second glass of wine. Half way through the fight scene, he sent DemiDevimon to bring him a third. 

 

The fight scene ended with a flurry of paper bats. Pumpkinmon tossed them into the air like confetti shouting "Devour him, my lovelies!" 

Gotsumon uttered a death cry as they fell upon him and sank to the ground, motionless. 

"At last," said Pumpkinmon, resting his foot on Gotsumon's head, "that dastardly Devimon shall menace us no longer."

Candlemon swooned again and flung his arms around him. "My hero!"

There was a pause. Then Gotsumon abruptly leapt to his feet and shouted, "The end!"

The three players bowed as Wizardmon played their curtain call. With the exception of one Bakemon, no one applauded. 

"Good show, gentleman", said Myotismon. He had tuned in for the final moments of the play. "It was...well, it was certainly something." 

He shared a glance with Phantomon and laughed. This prompted the crowd to join them and a wave of forced chuckles made one faint sweep across the room. 

"But I will say," he continued, "I rather enjoyed the music. You一" he pointed to Wizardmon, who went stiff in his seat一"stand up won't you? Let's have a bow." 

Nerves raging, Wizardmon obeyed and gave a stiff, little bow. 

"Come closer." Myotismon crooked a finger at him. "Let me have a good look at you." 

Wizardmon took a few steps toward the dias and, as a courtesy, removed his hat. 

"Funny that such a homely thing makes such beautiful music." 

Myotismon laughed again, but this time it was cut short. He squinted, touching a hand to his temple as though to nurse a migraine. 

"My Lord," Phantomon hovered a little closer, "is something the matter?" 

"No. I'm perfectly fine." Myotismon waved a hand dismissively, but the look on his face betrayed him. His grimace deepened; Wizardmon thought he noticed the man's hand trembling. 

Gatomon frowned. "Is there something you need, Lord Myotismon? You look unwell." 

"I've already told you--" Myotismon stopped short and groaned, clutching his head with both hands. Whatever it was that ailed him, his symptom has worsened. On attempting to stand, he faltered and caught himself on the arm of his throne. 

"Here, boss, lemme help you." DemiDevimon fluttered toward his master, only to be swatted away. 

"I don't need help! I just need---I need to---"

Myotismon clutched at his throat, unable to speak further. His body shook as he forced it to stand again, despite the protests of his officers. He took one floundering step and then, with a shuddering spasm, he collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my new Beta for proof reading this one!!!!


	10. Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay. Life got a little out of hand, and I got stuck on where to end this chapter. I'm going to try and update more frequently from here on out!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience,
> 
> Erin <3

The silence was undone by an uproar of whispers and shifting tables. From the back of the room, Digimon stood up on their chairs and strained to see what had happened. Those closest leapt to their feet and crowded around the throne, pushing and shoving at their comrades for a better look. 

At the center of it all was Gatomon, crouched beside her fallen master. Fangs bared, she turned and hissed at the swarm of onlookers as they pressed in closer and closer. 

"Everyone back off!" she yowled, fur bristling, "Give him room!"

Gatomon raised her claws and prepared to swipe at anyone who dared take another step, but no one did. Even the largest of them knew better than to disobey her. As eager as they'd come, the crowd began to shrink away.

Not far from her was Wizardmon. He'd had no time to withdraw before the mad scramble of onlookers trapped him amid the eye of the chaos. Gatomon jabbed one of her claws toward him. 

"You, help me!" 

Wizardmon hastened toward her, but tripped when his cloak was snagged underfoot. Not a moment later he was being pried off of the floor and dragged the rest of the way with Gatomon hissing—"Hurry!"—into his hear.

Gatomon tucked herself under Myotismon's right arm; Wizardmon followed suit with the left. Together they carried him—or dragged rather—away from the foot of the dias where he'd fallen and toward the doors at the far end of the room. Phantomon was already clearing a path for them, sweeping aside onlookers with the blunt end of his scythe. Pumpkinmon thrust himself forward, eager to be of service. 

Gatomon hissed at him. "Get out of the way!"

"But—"

"Move! We don't need you!" She shoved at him with one paw and he stumbled backward, speechless. 

DemiDevimon took the lead, darting ahead of Phantomon to shriek at those who'd yet to step aside. Digimon tripped and trampled over one another in their haste to clear the way. 

Myotismon was far heavier than he looked, densely packed with code. Gatomon bore the brunt of his weight as Wizardmon strained to carry his own share of the burden. In a hall full of bigger and stronger Digimon, he could not fathom why she'd called for him. 

As they crossed over the threshold and into the corridor, Gatomon paused and turned her face to DemiDevimon. "Not so fast, Bat Boy, You're staying here." It was not a suggestion. 

DemiDevimon had already pulled ahead. He stopped short mid-flutter and gaped at the feline. "What?! No way!" 

"Someone needs to stay behind and keep those fools from running amok, and that someone is going to be you." 

"If you're so concerned then why don't you stay behind!" 

"Because Lord Myotismon needs me. And besides, I outrank you. So shut up get your little feathered butt in there! I don't have the time argue with you!"

DemiDevimon let out a strangled growl, fangs clenched tightly together. He looked as if he had half a mind to swap blows with the feline, but after a drawn out pause, he relented. ‘’Fine,’’ he spat, ‘’But you better keep me in the loop! I’m important, too, ya’ know!’’

‘’Just get in there!’’ Gatomon did not wait around to see that he obeyed. She was on the move at once, hustling down the corridor. 

Phantomon led them round several corners before stopping at what appeared to be a dead end. He approached the wall that blocked their path and tapped it with the pointed finial at the head of his scythe. He then gave five more taps, each time touching a different stone. There was a crackling sound, like static, as a part of the wall fizzled away into tiny particles of data; through the gap was a stairway. 

The ascent was a steep and twisted one. It seemed impossibly long, and at times Wizardmon felt the the path had taken taken them in circles, though Gatomon and Phantomon seemed wholly unperturbed . At last, the stairway took them to a door. Phantomon produced a black key from his robe, undid the padlock, and the door creaked open with a horrendous squeal of its ancient hinges. 

Beyond the door was a vaulted chamber with all the trappings of a proper gentleman’s bedroom, save for an actual bed. There was an armchair and fireplace, bookshelves and candelabras, a tea table, armoire, vanity, and sofa. In one corner was an elegantly carved bureau neatly arrayed with pens, parchment and inkwells. 

The left hand wall had six windows; slender lancets fitted with tinted glass. With the curtains drawn back, they each cast a sliver of blood red moonlight onto the floor. Just beyond their reach, nestled in the shadows was a bulky black object perched on an inclined platform. Almost kite shaped, it was steepled at the top and tapered towards the bottom. Wizardmon felt a little shiver go down his spine when he recognized it for what it was—an enormous coffin. 

Phantomon removed its lid and, to his dismay, Wizardmon was asked to help place Myotismon inside it. 

‘’But he’s still alive!’’

‘’We know that,’’ snapped Gatomon. ‘’This is where he sleeps!’’

His objections were myriad, but Wizardmon kept them all to himself. 

Laying in his coffin, Myotismon looked like a freshly unearthed corpse. He was paler than before, white as bones, and impossibly still. It even seemed for a time that he might have stopped breathing, but Gatomon was certain she could hear the faintest little wheeze if she listened for it. 

‘’Phantomon,’’ she said, ‘’I need you to get back to the mess hall and check up on things—see to it that idiot, DemiDevimon, hasn’t started a riot down there. I don’t trust him to keep the peace on his own.’’

Phantomon seemed hesitant to comply; his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. ‘’What of Lord Myotismon?’’ he asked.

‘’I’ll look after him until you’ve returned.’’

Again the spectre hesitated. His gaze shifted to Wizardmon and lingered there for a few moments before he returned to Gatomon and bowed his head, ‘’Very well.’’ 

When Phantomon had left them, Gatomon turned her attention to the mage. ‘’Before we came to this place, you told me you had the power to heal,’’ she sounded sombre, ‘’is that still true?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Can you help him?’’

Wizardmon glanced at the prone figure of Myotismon and pursed his lips. ‘’I’ll do what I can.’’ He had hoped to say something more reassuring, but he could not bring himself to lie. 

Pulling himself onto the platform, Wizardmon peered into the coffin to get a closer look at his patient. There was not much he could tell at first glance, spare the obvious. Myotismon had been afflicted by something, and whatever this affliction was, it was working fast. He held his hands over the Ultimate and muttered an incantation. A light appeared, glowed for several moments, and then died away again.

Nothing happened.

‘’Is it done?’’ Gatomon joined him on the platform and stared at the unconscious form of her master, ‘’Why isn’t he waking up?’’

Wizardmon looked down at his hands and grimaced. The magic had failed. ‘’This does not bode well…’’

‘’Whats wrong?’’

‘’This is no ordinary affliction.’’ Wizardmon peered into the coffin once more. Very gently, he took Myotismon’s hand, removing the glove, and examined it. At once he noted a stark discoloration of the finger tips. The skin had blackened, and when he looked closely Wizardmon could see the darkness spreading like ink on paper. ‘’I take it this isn’t normal?’’

Gatomon bent inward for a closer look and her eyes widened. ‘’What is that!’’

‘’I’m not sure yet,’’ Wizardmon lowered the hand back into the coffin, ‘’but I might have an idea. I’ve seen symptoms like these before—pallor, shallow breathing, discoloration of the skin—my guess is he’s been poisoned.’’

‘’That’s not possible.’’ Gatomon was still staring at those blackened fingers. 

‘’I’m afraid it is,’’ Wizardmon took the mask from Myotismon’s face and found the same discoloration forming around his eyes. 

‘’But how—‘’ Gatomon stopped. She already knew the answer ‘’—the wine!’’

 

The mess hall was already empty by the time they returned. Phantomon had ordered everyone back to their barracks, spare the beleaguered kitchen staff who were now slaving to put the room back together. The banners had been taken down, and the carpet carted away. A team of DemiMeramon were busy scouring the floor with scrubs, sponges, and dust pans. 

DemiDevimon was not present, but as for the specter, he was hovering at the far end of the hall, quietly observing as two Arbormon lifted Myotismon's throne from its platform and heaved it off somewhere. 

Gatomon called out to him, "Phantomon!"

The specter turned, acknowledged her, and then hovered near. 

"How fares Lord Myotismon?"

"He's getting worse," said Gatomon, "but if we act quickly, we may be able to save him." She looked back and nodded to Wizardmon, who stood behind her, "You, tell him what you told me." 

Wizardmon stepped forward, "I believe Lord Myotismon has been poisoned. It's likely someone tampered with his wine, but we can't be certain of that unless we can examine the vessel. Is it still here?" 

"I'm not certain," Phantomon looked over his shoulder at the empty platform where the throne had been, "it may have been taken away already. We shall have to ask one of them", he gestured to the miscellaneous kitchen staff scattered around the room. 

Gatomon acted immediately. Nearby was a Vegiemon bussing tables; she shouted at him, "You, there! Come!" 

Startled, the Vegiemon dropped his bussing tray and its contents clattered onto the stones. He ignored it and hurried over. "You called for me, Ma'am?"

"Lord Myotismon was served wine in a chalice this evening. Where is it?"

The Vegimon blinked a few times, then looked frantically around the room. ‘’I, uh…’’

‘’I asked you a question!’’ Gatomon seized one of the colorful fronds on Vegimon’s head and yanked him closer, baring her fangs at him. 

The Vegiemon squirmed, his voice climbing a few octaves as squealed for mercy. ‘’Ow! Ow! I don’t know I swear’’—Gatomon twisted the frond even harder—‘’Owowooowo!!’’

‘’Where might we look for it then?’’ Asked Phantomon.

‘’They probably took it back to the kitchens to be washed! That’s all I—Ooh! Ow ow!—all I know! Aaagh!’

‘’Very well,’’ said Phantomon, ‘’Gatomon, you may release him now. I think he’s had quite enough.’’

Gatomon did so reluctantly, her claws still tensing as she rested them at her sides. The Vegimon thanked them hastily, then scurried away and got back to work. 

The kitchens were a cluttered mess of cookware and food spills. The DemiMeramon bustled to and fro, bussing trays rattling. Towers of dirty dishes were stacked precariously by the huge utility sink in the back corner where a disgruntled (Blankmon) was elbow deep in a vat of soapy water. Every few seconds he would clatter another few plates onto the pile of clean dishware to his left, then heave another batch of soiled wares into the water. 

Gatomon approached and called for (Blankmon’s) attention. He ignored her. Gatomon bristled from head to toe and shouted at him again. This time Blankmon paused to look over his shoulder, grumbled, then got back to work. 

Gatomon had never look so scandalized. She raised her paws and prepared to strike. Wizardmon lifted a hand to stop her. 

"Excuse me," he stepped out in front of her and approached the lumbering Blackmon, "I apologize for disturbing your work, but this is very important. Please, Lord Myotismon's life depends on it."

Blankmon looked over his shoulder again and asked, "Yeh? An' whaddya need me fer?"

"Lord Myotismon had been served wine in an iron chalice just before he fell ill. We would like to examine it for signs of tampering. Have you seen it? Is it here?" 

There was a long rumbling hum as Blankmon thought it over. He scratched his chin with a massive claw, grimacing. "No. Don't s'pose I 'ave." 

"I see", Wizardmon shared an uneasy glance with Gatomon, who was only growing tender by the moment. "Thank you for your cooperation." 

The wizard tipped his hat in appreciation. Blankmon only grumbled and got back to work.

 

Back at the tower, Myotismon's health had worsened. The discoloration had begun to reach his forearms; his breaths were ragged and uneasy. He even seemed smaller now. 

Wizardmon had taken a damp cloth to the vampire's forehead to clear the sweat from his brow. Doing so achieved absolutely nothing, Wizardmon knew this, but he hoped it might comfort Gatomon to see her master tended to. 

"Is he going to die?" She asked, quietly. 

The feline had stationed herself at Myotismon's side and would not budge, leaving Phantomon to take the mantle of leader in their master's absence. He had left them some time ago to attend to his duties.

‘’I can't say for sure, but we might take it for a good sign that he has lasted this long.” Wizardmon wet the cloth again, wrung it, then laid it across the Myorismon’s brow and left it. “I’ll do what I can for him, but without knowing the cause of his illness, I’m afraid my powers are limited.” 

Gatomon nodded and gave a somber little hum, her eyes never once left Myotismon. For a while, there was silence again, and Wizardmon resumed the futile business of tending to the dying creature in his care. Now and then his eyes would flicker to Gatomon, still holding her silent vigil.


End file.
